The Concept of Words
by LilyBartAndTheOthers
Summary: Love affair: a relationship between two lovers.WK fic
1. Chapter 1

Part one.

Perhaps the way he let his tongue run on her neck. Or the softness of his lips on her whole body. The dizzy essence of their breaths sounding loud in the silence of their acts.

The secrets of their minds.

She used to give up herself to the talent of his hands; the warmness of his kisses on her shivering skin. She leaned her head backwards and arched her chest, squeezing his waist with strength. What is it about sex that it becomes addicting? A burning feeling that follows the pulsions of a heart. She bit her lower lip and smiled under her stifled moan. The last one. Supreme.

She loved playing with his earlobe when he used to speed up the pace of his hips and join her in the ecstasy of the moment. Furtive seconds of an intense meeting. Pressed against the wall of Grace's office, breathless, weak. They didn't move and came back to reality, little by little. Slowly. Why did he find her attractive? The curves of her figure, so tempting. She was always the first one to break the magic and leave his waist, her legs touching back the hardwood floor, going for her clothes scattered all around.

And life went on.

She sat down on her chair, he left the place. A five-second gaze between the two of them. A mischievous smile, an invisible nod and they would be fed by the fantasies of their minds until the next time.

Was it a love affair? None of them could tell.

Not Will.

Nor Karen.

Fidelity: a principle that forbids misleading or deceiving any creature capable of being mislead or deceived. Loyalty, the faithful performance of a duty.

She had always based all her relationships on this word, its important meanings. As eccentric as her life could be, she would never cheat on someone and so would never be cheated on. But from the heights of her Upper East Side mansion the determined rules had slowly faded away and she had tip over, unexpectedly. Helplessly.

She had shivered as soon as he had brushed her lips with his and she had just succombed to the craziness of her mind. The fantasies of her soul. Will's arms on her body.

She would never forget how blankly she had stared at the ceiling then, laid on her bed, his hand on her stomach. His regular breath warming up her neck. He had fallen asleep.

Will.

She had thought about Stanley and her wedding ring. Her name at the bottom of the official paper she had signed before getting married. The story of an engagement, morality. She had broken the rules but didn't regret it. Is there something to expect from this kind of relationship? She had turned and huddled up against him, closing her eyes peacefully. What about your life, honey? Your principles? Karen Walker. You chose this name for a reason. You can't abuse of its power. It never crossed her mind though that it would be a single time.

One night.

She would get more, no matter what they could think of it. No matter if it would ruin everything.

Coincidence: a sequence of events that although accidental seems to have been planned or arranged.

And Stanley got arrested.

She felt free and relieved. Ashamed, happy. She loved when his hand joined her fingertips. The dance of their feelings on a sensitive skin. Nobody noticed it even though sometimes they barely hid it. The dinners at his place, the weekends out of the city. There was the four of them and in the darkness of the intimacy, only Will and Karen. Just some room for something else.

They didn't speak about dates, romantic evenings. The seriousness of those words were a bit too scaring. The ridiculous idea that they still had control of the situation while they had lost it when their bodies had slided slowly against the sheets.

The beginning of a story, endless, appealing.

The bright colors of fall vanished under the whiteness of snow. Christmas was coming. She stepped outside her building and filled her lungs with the icy wind of New York City. A sunny Sunday afternoon, like the ones she loved more than anything. She crossed Park Avenue and reached the gates of Central Park. There's a small coffee out there, near by the ice rink, where the smell of hot chocolate gets mixed with the scent of the trees.

She smiled when she saw him. How come she could forget everything as soon as she looked at Will? They sat down and started speaking, their feet brushing each other's ones under the wooden table, the steam of their beverages going up above their heads, their beautiful features.

She would keep a scar on her hand as the souvenir of their meeting. When she cut herself with the ice skates, abdicting under Will's wish. He didn't let go of her waist as they slowly slided on the ice, among the crowd of scarves and gloves. And she laughed, leaning her head backwards against the warmness of his arms.

He would kiss her injury over and over then. In the bath they would share. And they would end up in bed. Her leg pressed against his waist, his hand on her thigh.

And she would smile in his mouth.

Happiness: state of well-being characterized by emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy. Emotions experienced when in a state of well-being.

They held their breaths and their eyes started shining under the Christmas tree lightening. For one second they all stayed quiet and looked how the tree was glimmering under the darkness of the night, the brightness of the flashes. She looked at Jack and took his hand, caught up by her emotions. She smiled at Grace standing next to her and reached finally Will's gaze. She felt like hugging him but the sweetness of his look got enough and she joined his arms mentally.

Two months and she still didn't regret it.

She closed her eyes and murmured in her heart, hoping he would get her message. The one she would tell him later when they would have turned off the lights of his flat.

Happy anniversary, Will.

On top of him she would reach his mouth and caress his tongue with hers under the langorous light of the stars and they wouldn't break apart but until long after they would have become one.


	2. Chapter 2

Part two. 

She took off her high heels and slowly made a step forward in the darkness of the hallway. Her hand reached the door and she entered the room. Plunged in the silence of the night, the loud beats of her heart. She couldn't help smiling as she thought about what she was going to live. Why is it so different with Will?

She saw the tinsels glimmering under the moonlight, near by the French window. A few inches away from the small terrace where she had kissed him the night before. It was snowing. She had shivered in his embrace and like a teenager had intertwined her fingers with his and caressed his lips. So soft, so warm. Feeling how her body was asking for more contact as he had deepened the kiss. There's something about him.

There's just something.

Reunion: the act of coming together again. A party of former associates who have come together again.

Always under the stars. When the sky had turned dark and the city was falling asleep. And then her life used to begin again, as soon as the heat of his hand touched her burning skin. The companion of her dreams, the friend of her fantasies. The owner of her body.

Will.

Seven steps were needed from the main door to his room. From the conventional terms of their friendship to the caresses of their complicity. She stopped when she saw him, his eyes shining in the dark. She smiled. Both are looking for something, the flame of life, maybe. She passed her hand underneath his shirt as he brushed her back, leading her to the bed in a sweet motion. They never broke apart, filling their lungs with the breath of each other. And then he laid on top of her, kissing her neck, her throat. He can't live without her. The scent of her flesh, the spring of his desires. That is Karen Walker.

What is it about silence that it's so exciting? How she shivers in his arms, under the weight of his body. The thrusts of their souls joining the forbidden feelings. He always paid attention to the colors of the scene. How her pale complexion looked almost transparent under the stars, glimmering. Sweet kisses from her face to her feet, he knew the least inch of her body by heart and could spend hours caressing it.

But what he loved the most was when she used to fall asleep, rocked by the quietness of their hearts after the storm of their souls. She would have gone away, in the morning. When the sky of New York City would start getting clear shades, as pale as her skin. He would look at the curves of her hips, her back while she would put on back her clothes and lean over for a kiss. The last one. And she would leave the place, satisfied.

Like him.

Secret: something that remains beyond understanding or explanation, a mystery. Something kept hidden from others or known only to oneself or to a few.

She came closer to him and brushed his back with her hands, smiling at him mischievously. They looked at each other for a couple seconds and the complicity of their eyes started setting off the secret of their souls. The needs of their hearts.

Christmas Eve. At Will's.

She picked a glass and poured red wine in it, leaning against the counter of the kitchen, next to him. She spoke to Jack stayed on the couch with Grace and let her fingers reach his hand behind her. Playing hide-and-seek with the softness of his skin as he was preparing the meal.

She had never felt so light, so fine. And what about Stanley, Karen? She closed her eyes as the alcohol warmed up her throat and she tightened the grip on his fingertips. What if I stay with Will?

She sat down next to him and enjoyed the caresses of their bodies. Their feet, their hands. The secret affair of her charms over Will's heart. The mystery of his mind, his breath against her mouth. She would spend the night over, in his arms. And perhaps pretend a hangover when she went out his bedroom to join everyone.

If only they asked.

She looked how the bracelet was shining under the flames of the fireplace. A white gold chain, so fine.

Thank you so much, honey. I love it.

She smiled and pushed him towards her lips, her moans getting lost in his mouth while she slowly laid on the floor and he caressed her waist, wishing for more. The heat of the fire burning behind her head was invading her face in a maternal embrace as his lips were going down under the lace of her dress. Some things will always remain in the darkness of my heart. Like my secret affair with Stanley's wife.

Sensation: a perception associated with stimulation of a sense organ or with a specific body condition. An indefinite generalized body feeling.

She stepped into the shower and closed her eyes under the heat of the water. For the first time she hadn't gone away but enjoyed her night in his arms. The warmness in her stomach in the last movements, the intensity of the act. She needed his mouth on her shoulder when she bit her lower lip and succombed to the sweet strength of her heart. The unique wish of her mind. And felt then how he rested on her chest, a hand on her waist. Her fingers on his hair.

She stopped in front of the mirror and brushed her lips with her tongue. They were carrying the weight of his kisses, the print of the night. A fuzzy sensation that would never be put aside. He had engraved on the red of her mouth the nets of his soul. She had left him a few minutes ago but was already missing his arms.

She smiled at Jack as she entered the living and went to sit down on his lap. Will she mind one day about her acts? The bracelet on her wrist caught up the light of the day and brought a thousand of kisses to her heart. She stayed still in Jack's arms. Looking at the corner where he would appear and make her heart tip over. As he always did, now.

Like this sensation on her lips. The meanings of Will's soul on her body.

On her life.


	3. Chapter 3

Part three. 

One. Just there, where your skin is so fine. So soft. I take with my mouth the figure of your bone and let a kiss on your ankle. My hands caress your feet, I lock my eyes with yours. I love when you shiver as our bodies make contact with each other.

Two. I slowly go up your leg, my lips following my hands. You swallow hard but let me do. My tongue brushes your knee and you giggle, you like it. I love you. What is it about you, Karen, that made me change so much? Why am I seeing the world through a whole different vision?

I want you.

She waited hungrily for the return of his lips on hers while he was kissing her whole body. She closed her eyes under the heat of his heart, the weight of time. And then she reached his mouth. Squeezed his waist, held him tight as they rolled on a side and took possesion of the bed. Their breaths getting loud.

Image: a reproduction of the form of a person or object, especially a sculptured likeness.

New Year's Eve passed behind the secret of their souls. The complexity of an addicting situation. The fusion of their hearts as soon as they met each other in the darkness of the night. The snow started covering the intensity of their feelings under a layer of whiteness as pure as his smile whenever she entered his flat.

He took her in his arms and made her head rest on his chest as they were looking outside the snowdrops falling from the sky. He would never forget the features of her face, the grace of her eyes. The way she used to bite her lips and let her gaze speak for her. The words never came out her throat or it was just a vague whisper that made shiver his spine. He had fallen under her charms. Is the situation going to evolve or are they going to go backwards?

He kissed her temple and pushed away his fears. The dreadful idea that he was holding Stanley's wife. Oh Karen, what have you done to me? He relaxed and closed his eyes, joining her in those dreams they used to share silently. The lights of his mind suddenly turned on and she appeared in his head. His heart beginning to beat, so fast, as she was coming closer to him and the warmness of her lips brushed his cheek. His mouth.

The distance would never change it. Nor anything. He would keep forever the image of this woman he had met one day, his existence tipping over as her fingertips had caressed the back of his hands and then they had kissed. There's no return when love got the leading part. He frowned and looked down, concentrating on her smile. The bewitching feeling that he was hers as soon as her image appeared, brightly, in the nothingness of his mind.

In the depths of his heart.

Consequence: the relation of a result to its cause. Something that logically or naturally follows from an action or condition.

She sat down and looked around carefully. Disgusted, ashamed. A policeman was standing up next to the door, obviously amused that a woman like her had finally reached the hole of a federal jail. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down, thinking about Will. His caresses, his last kiss. Some agitation pushed away her daydreams and the sweetness of her fantasies.

Stanley came in.

She stared at him blankly. Didn't open her mouth to speak. She was too angry for that, for what he was doing to her, all this humiliation. She wasn't hurt, just pissed off. He had spoiled everything and dared now to smile at her, lovingly. She clentched her fist and listened to her husband as he was telling her about everything. But she got lost in her thoughts about Will, how her soul could soften under the light of the stars when she felt his breath against her skin. And this strength reaching her lips, coming from her heart.

Even though Grace's presence in the room next door could ruin everything, she prefered to meet him on the ninth floor of the Upper West Side building. He brings me the warmness that my life was lacking of. The happiness to know that wherever I am, whatever I am doing, there's someone on earth who is thinking about me. Who loves me. And whom I love too more than anything. It's Will.

Will.

She jumped and came back to the coldness of reality. The unfriendly atmosphere of the thick walls of the jail.

Will is a good lawyer, he will get me off here.

She smiled, weakly, and nodded, but shivered and moved backwards when Stanley put his hand on hers and started caressing it. She looked down and began to breathe loud, looking for some air. Her throat was weighing on her heart. She had to go outside.

She turned her head and saw Will on the other side of the glass. Stanley's words slowly faded away in the background. She could only hear her heart, its beats, so loud. While her eyes were pleading Will to hug her tight. She needed him. She needed Will.

Not Stan.

She said good-bye to him but stopped the policeman. She looked at her husband, frowning.

I want to speak to you, Stan.

Release: to relieve of care and suffering. To free from something that binds, fastens, or holds back. To set free from confinement, restraint, or bondage.

She asked him for a walk along the Hudson River as they were letting behind the gray walls of the prison. Her marriage with Stan. As they were reaching a curve of the path she stopped and looked at him with a bright smile. And she hugged him with strength, and he made her twirl around, her head leaned backwards, lighted up by the laughters of her mouth. Her release.

She kissed him deeply and didn't stop smiling in his mouth. Caressing his tongue softly, lovingly. When a heart feels relief, it's a new life about to begin. Hers would be with Will.

She hadn't told Stanley about their relationship. The one that took place every night, every day if only in their minds. She had kept the intensity of her feelings for herself, just confirmed the official separation. He had been carrying so many secrets, why wouldn't she do the same?

She buried her serious thoughts and concentrated on his embrace. How she felt warm and fine lost in his arms, her hand on his chest. She could kiss him forever, never break apart. And they would take off each other's clothes while entering his flat. Her lips on his, her tongue sliding in his mouth. She would caress his whole skin and make love to him until the stars started shining in the sky over her relieved soul.

And they would see what life would bring to their hearts.


	4. Chapter 4

Part four. 

Her hands went up slowly along his chest, tracing little circles while her tongue was meeting the skin of his bare stomach and then she felt him gasp under her playful ministrations. The sun was still high in the sky, there was no need to be in the dark. Grace had gone away for a couple days and so the desires of their minds could take place under the brightness of the day.

For once.

Her body slided against the least inch of his skin and she pressed herself on Will as she kissed him deeply, holding his chin tightly. He's more addicting than the strongest alcohol. She could give up the pills but certainly not Will. She smiled and closed her eyes when she felt him inside of her and rested her hand on his hair, the heat of his head bewitching on her neck. Like those kisses he used to let just under her ear.

And they enjoyed the strength of their feelings, the unique sensation that every thrust could bring, the indescribable passion that leads to craziness. To love. Until they reached the apogee of their souls and looked at each other, breathless. Is that their fate?

Divorce: a complete or radical severance of closely connected things. The legal dissolution of a marriage.

Stanley didn't protest and signed the paper that would put an end to his relation with Karen. He hadn't even been surprised under her request. It was logical and after all, exactly what a man like him could deserve. He should have taken care of her a bit more. Women are precious and rare, treat them well.

He had failed and lost Karen.

Her hands didn't stop shaking during the whole meeting. Not because of the legal act she had asked for but the confusion in her mind. The lack of self-confidence that she was experiencing all of a sudden. What does it mean, a divorce? Her divorce. What are the real reasons that pushed her to sign those papers and took off the diamond ring on her left finger?

She avoided Will's gaze during the process. Sometimes the truth is too bright, too evident to be accepted. Too scaring.

It had never been a fling, a capricious crush. The beats of her heart were too loud whenever she thought about him. The sweetness of his hands on her skin. Whenever she was with him, in his arms. Brushing his lips. Why did their friendship have to evolve and take another way? Why them? She looked down blankly. What is it that you're always unable to deal with the essence of your soul, Karen?

Jack and Grace supported her decision but never asked why she had come to such a choice about her life. Perhaps Stanley's situation was a good excuse, enough to understand. She accepted their hugs quietly and when the moonlight passed through the window of his bedroom, she celebrated the freedom of her heart under a thousand of kisses, a thousand of smiles. In Will's arms.

And she just tried to let the time take care of their souls.

Seriousness: an earnest and sincere feeling. Deeply interest or dedication.

The snow began to melt and the warmness of the spring wrapped New York City in a sweet embrace. Six months. The half of a year. The time seemt to have flown away all of a sudden as soon as she had caressed his nape and his lips had joined hers for a kiss. The first one of their relationship. When she had felt alive and understood that it would never be the same anymore. They had turned a page together.

Together.

She was never late when she had to see him. She only lived for those moments, their softness on her skin. She sat down on a bench and looked at the trees of Riverside Park, in full blossom. Like her heart. She shivered and smiled, closing her eyes when his lips brushed her neck from behind. She took his hand resting on her shoulder and held it tight. Then turned her head and kissed his mouth as he joined her on the wooden seat. She passed her arms around his waist and leaned against his chest, filling her lungs with the scent of his soul.

I missed you.

He laughed under the unexpected statement.

I was still with you ten minutes ago.

She pouted and kissed his cheek, passing her hand in his hair.

That's too long for me.

He didn't answer but tightened the grip on her shoulders, his head against hers. And they would stay still, quiet. Just looking how the spring was a bright symbol of their feelings. How Riverside Park can be romantic when love is involved. So pure, unique.

And life goes on, never stops. A permanent move towards the unknown. A bright one for them. So bright in the darkness of their lies. Will they put a light on their hearts?

A woman sat next to them and took her baby in her arms. Karen smiled at her politely then looked down. Sometimes intimacy can be shared in public. Like her relationship with Will or the love of this woman for her baby. But a cellphone rang and the mother started panicking, seeing how she could never deal with her child and the emergency coming from the signal of the phone. She turned and quietly asked Karen to hold her son. She accepted, anxious. Scared. She wasn't good at five-second babysitting.

As the woman was speaking over the phone, Karen relaxed and looked at the young and perfect features of the small person she was holding. Wll only caught up how logical the scene was sounding and then he realized. A wave of warmness passed through his body as the urge of having a baby started imposing itself in the sweetness of his heart.

Karen turned and smiled at him, amused by the baby.

As they would turn on their right and then head back to his flat, Will would be sure of that: Karen and him would have a child.

Careful: attentive to potential danger, error, or harm.

She grabbed his nape and pushed him towards her, pressed against the fridge of the kitchen. She slowly closed her eyes and reached his lips. So warm. Her tongue slided on them until he opened his mouth and they deepened hungrily the kiss as his hands were going down on her thighs.

As soon as the least inch of their skin made contact with the other one, they got lost in the instinct of their minds. Their desires, as strong as this blood running on their veins, feeding their souls. But like any secret affair a part of their brains had to stay awoken, alert. What if someone picks them? Grace, Jack. All what they had been building under the tender moonlight would crumble away and they would find themselves alone, tears on their faces as unique symbol of the past.

Being careful, never tempt anything before it was safe. It belonged to the routine of their hearts now, their hands. Their eyes. But sometimes the passion was so loud that they could barely hear the keys brushing the door and Grace entered the flat. And within a second the magic broke apart. They had always got it till now. Always.

So why would it change? And how?

They are in love and feel so strong. Too much perhaps.


	5. Chapter 5

Part five. 

Follow my hands through the bends of my heart. Of my body. Look how they stop by every single place and caress the skin softly. Slowly. It's all about sensations and when you feel my back arch under your lips, the pressure of my thighs against your chest, you know you got it.

You know you got me.

I'm all yours, Will. Is it a pure coincidence if you ended up rocking my soul with beautiful words? Or just a destiny that had been joining us since the very beginning, the exact day of our birth? That it was written somewhere we would be together. I don't know and will probably never do but still. I can't live without you. Don't leave me, please. Keep your hands on me and the strength of your body on mine. I love these moments, when we think about nothing but the power of our feelings. The pleasure you give me under those caresses. I wish it would never stop and when I shiver in our last thrusts I tighten the grip on your heart. Stay here.

And you, Will? What do you think about me?

Monotony: uniformity or lack of variation, intonation, or inflection. Tedious sameness or repetitiousness.

Morning. She left his arms reluctantly and walked half-asleep in the streets of the city. As desert as her soul when she wasn't with him. Too lonely. She came back to her mansion and didn't stop thinking about the exact moment she would find the heat of his body against her heart. A bit later, that night. Then she went to the office or stopped by the coffee. She smiled at Will. Friendly. She closed her eyes a couple seconds and kissed Will. Lovingly. In her head. Did he do the same?

And the day could begin under the fantasies of their late meetings.

Lunchtime. With Jack, with Grace, alone. And she just spent her time lost in the warmness of his smiles. The sweetness of his gestures. The beauty of their acts. She loved the world coming from the desires of her heart. It smelled of candy, sugar. An unexpected reminiscence of a childhood she had thought buried under a ton of clouds. Not dust, it was too bright for that.

There's a Chinese restaurant midtown, hidden behind thick red curtains. An old lady brings your plates. The soup, the rice. There's only four tables, a single lamp lighting the seats. It's where Karen meets Will when they share a meal. And so nobody will find them.

The old and heavy routine of a secret affair. So quiet.

Afternoon. She looked at Grace and changed of attitude. At the beginning she felt the guilt invade her conscious. The irrepressible wish to apologize for the second life they were holding, there, in the dark. As the seasons passed by and her feelings got strength for him, a wave of selfishness took control of her body. Why should I tell her? As long as I'm happy. But the weight of Grace's friendship and the wonderful things she was experiencing had led her to the frustrating stage when you want to confess it but can't do it. It's not cowardice but a bitter impossibility.

Or the dead-end of a story.

She used to think about it a lot, lately. How the anonymous relationship seemt to be stuck, trapped in the oppresive arms of the moonlight. How many times had they looked at the stars, in silence, and enjoyed the warmness of their hearts beating loud in the dark? How many times had they jumped and broken apart as soon as someone entered the flat?

She looked down and frowned, knowingly.

Way too much, Karen.

Evening. She counted the last hours that separated them, the last minutes, eternal seconds before the vital embrace and the salt of his skin under her mouth. She never managed to wonder why they remained in the darkness because when the question was brushing her brain, she was already taking possession of his heart. One more time.

Detail: an individual part or item; a particular. Particulars considered individually and in relation to a whole.

She kissed his chest langorously and speeded up the pace of their thrusts. Her eyes were locked in his in the intensity of their movements, and she just smiled at him and shivered under the caresses of his hands on her back, her bare skin. She leaned her head backwards and sighed heavily, still on top of him. She loved feeling his body between her legs. The softeness of his flesh, the desires of his brain. And the irrepressible instinct that led them to the exaltation of their happiness.

She leaned over, breathless, and kissed him deeply. Slowly. She let her tongue guide his between their lips as her hands were brushing his cheeks. She held him tight and rest her face on his shoulder. She wouldn't break apart and let his body leave hers. Not now. She wanted to stay with him until they reached the clouds, when they would had stopped breathing and left their bodies.

Time has no hold over feelings.

I miss your hand on my nape and your lips on mine. You didn't whisper to me those three words, the spring of my smiles, when I left this morning. So for once I will be the one who will brush your ear with them: I love you, Will.

Karen.

She looked at the man sleeping in the bed, then put down the pen next to the message. And left the place.

The words on the paper were burning his skin whenever the little white square brushed his leg in the depths of his pockets. Who would we blame for what happened then? The time for being so fast? The jealousy of a friend? Will's absent-mindness? Or their decision to keep this relation in the darkness?

He grabbed his coat and kissed Grace. Then closed the door behind him, he was late. That must be why he didn't notice this piece of paper twirling in the airs in the agitation of his back. Nor Grace picking it up and getting blank, all of a sudden when the words got bright in front of her eyes. The single object of his affection and the concentration of his mind was leaving her Upper East Side mansion, lost in the fantasies of her mind. Her preocupations. Her doubts. He hailed a cab and smiled. His love. His dreams. His hopes.

Why do we stay together, Will, if we only feel safe under the pale light of the moon?

Why are you all for me, Karen? If only Grace could understand.

Complication: a factor, condition, or element, that complicates. A confused or intricate relationship of parts.

She looked through the window the life going on in Manhattan. How nothing never ceased, never stopped nor relaxed. How she would like to have a break and go away, just for a while. She leaned against the glass. Will... She smiled. The mere fact of saying his name out loud was enough to warm up her anxious heart.

She left her daydreams while hearing a pair of heels in the background. She turned and saw Grace come in.

Hi,Gracie.

She smiled, confused though under the silence of her friend, and took the paper that Grace was giving her. She looked down and saw the words. Hers. She felt how her heart was slowling down dangerously and how the floor, usually so firm was getting like jelly. Unsteady.

She opened her mouth to speak but the sound of her deep breath got stopped by the slap of Grace's hand on her cheek. So strong that it made her face turn and look down automatically. Her hair hidding her panicked eyes. Her blank gaze. And the redness appearing on her flesh.

Bitch!

She didn't move nor protest under her friend's word and let Grace leave the place. Then, very slowly she brushed her cheek with a shaking hand, breathing loudly. Her throat began to tighten the grip on her lungs, she was suffocating. The air became heavy, opressive. She leaned her head backwards and tried to relax the high speed of her heartbeats.

In vain.

She walked until her desk and grabbed the edge of her seat. The room spinning around, too quickly. She swallowed hard and was about to sit down when her vision got dark.

And then she collapsed.


	6. Chapter 6

Part six. 

You will steal my lips and drink my soul through an ocean of kisses, soft reminiscence of my dreams. You will take my hand and we will reach the clouds. Together because obviously, we can't live without each other. I love you too much for that, Will. But please, let the darkness behind. Those stifled moans, those cries.

Let our love shine.

Or make a step forward and turn at the corner. Then never come back to my heart. I'm tired of our lies, tired of everything. Maybe we should have never started, never kissed. Or just never pretended. It's too late now and I already miss your arms, the weight of your body and the pleasure you give me when you shiver against my body. It's an attempt of fusion. Of life.

Our life.

What have we done, Will?

Confession: a formal aknowledgment of guilt by a person accused of a crime. Admission of misdeeds or faults.

She opened her eyes in Jack's arms. She looked at his worried gaze and realized how she had missed him since her relationship with Will had reached another stage. Appealing and destructive. So warm. She needed him right now.

She was still holding the sheet of paper very tightly under her fingers. Pressed against her palm. The object of the failure. They knew it was only a matter of time. She gave it to Jack and waited for his reaction. Blankly. Powerless. Weak. Exhausted. Livid.

Oh Kare...

She burst into cries when he hugged her and rocked her injured soul.

And then she told him everything. From the day they had kissed until this exact morning. The night he confessed his love, the day she slided on the ice rink with him. Her deepest feelings reached her lips and danced on her mouth a beautiful waltz. She was smiling under the souvenirs of kisses, the way he looked at her and caressed her back. How she loved when she could stay in his arms until the stars vanished and the sun began to shine. Brightly.

And her doubts. The heavy weight of the lies, of the darkness on their hearts. Is it the end? Even his name tasted of bitterness against her tongue. Painful in her throat. And so much more now that Grace had found about them. It was like a labyrinth and perhaps they had gone through the wrong path. It had looked fine and right for quite a while, lovely seconds of a month, furtive time of a year. A detail in a life. And all of a sudden a brick wall had appeared in front of us. They were trapped and had to move backwards. As hard as it can be to do it all over again without his hands on her soul.

She took a deep breath as if she were about to keep on telling the complex secrets of her mind but stopped and stayed quiet. Looking at the floor.

And now?

She looked at Jack and frowned. Then shook her head.

I don't know, Jackie. I don't know.

There was so much panic in her eyes.

Rain: water condensed from atmospheric vapor and falling in drops.

The sun disappeared as gray clouds took possession of the sky. Of her heart. The first raindrop fell on the window of the car at the same time that this first tear welling up in her eyes. For once the streets of the city where calm. Too much perhaps. Is it the sign of the storm of their minds? The tempest of feelings. As burning as when she grabbed his neck and kissed him passionately, on top of him. Very slowly they sat down and she could kiss his whole face. Every single feature. And he could whisper to her how he was in love with her, following the movements of their skins against each other.

An arched back. The sound of a kiss let on a shivering body. A heavy sigh. The loud noise of a smile. A hand running on a body as the pace of the thrusts was increasing. A wave of warmness. The soft embrace of a heart over another one. The unique sensation going above their souls. An addicting chemistry. Her legs squeezing his waist. And this smile against his mouth. Breathless they would stay still in each other's arms until an irrepressible charm would lay them down and plunge their minds in the dreams of their night.

A unique love.

She sighed and swallowed back her cries.

An impossible one.

He hadn't seen Grace not got Jack's message on his phone. He didn't know about those few words written on a sheet of paper. How details could count sometimes. How they had failed, breaking apart.

He was still in his dreams, those sweet fantasies. The exact second she would reach the door, he would plunge his hand on her head and taste the heat of her lips. The softness of her tongue. The joy and chance to hold her in his arms.

It wasn't an engagement but a promise. A symbol somehow. The pale complexion of her skin would match with the brightness of the stone. A dark emerald on the center of a sliver ring. A small circle to light up a whole body. A whole heart.

He had seen it in the window of an old store somewhere around Riverside Park. He had been caught up by the power emerging from the jewel. How a so tiny thing can get someone so hypnotized? It was as if the ring was telling him about an old story. A previous life lost in the nets of time. The whirls of the centuries. The labyrinth of a wave of happy owners who decided once to abandon the precious item for some blurry reasons.

And then his mind had set off. Karen's finger would be the next one to carry it and make it shine. A pale sun through the rain of the day. Like their love in the middle of the confusion of their lives. Of Grace's heart.

Difference: an instance of disparity or unlikeness. A disagreement or controversy. A noticeable change or effect.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head backwards as the elevator was going up to the ninth floor. There was still this weight on her heart. Perhaps she would be relieved when she left the place then. Later but before the appearance of the stars.

There wouldn't be any night in his arms. Any kiss in the darkness of the flat. The tenderness of his gaze and the flame in her eyes. The beats of their hearts would fade away and everything would get calm. Too much but still. At least she wouldn't make suffer anyone.

He looked at the raindrops falling on the window and smiled. Dreamingly.

Will, this is my assistant, Karen.

I will hold you and never let you down.

Never leave me behind.

I love you.

You bewitched my mind. Take care of my heart.

He got lost in the reminiscence of the main lines he had gone through with this woman stealing the essence of his veins. The spirit of his heart. The friend who had slided slowly along the dangerous and addicting paths of a love story.

Karen.

She was all for him.

She took a deep breath and made the three regular steps until his flat. He turned as the door opened and she appeared all of a sudden.

He smiled, lovingly. She looked at him, anxiously.

People always end up showing differences. It may be time for them to deal with it.


	7. Chapter 7

Part seven. 

And when the night falls over our hearts, burying our pains, our hopes, I will always be there holding tightly your hand. A furtive walk through the past, the shadows of our souls shaking in the dark but you won't be afraid, my love. And together, intertwining our fingers like our tongues in a quiet embrace under an apple tree, the softness of our determination will shine above our heads.

Brightly.

And the glory of our feelings will carry the symbol of the success of our lips. The uniqueness of our existence. The beauty of your charms. The despair of my mind.

End: the point in time when an action, an event, or a phenomenon ceases or is completed; the conclusion.

He let her speak, the fatal words hurting his heart like a thousand of small knives penetrating his skin, slowly, sharply. She didn't even cry, just felt empty. Useless. Disgusting. He tried to keep in mind her features, the print of her lips against his mouth, everything. Her sentences seemt to go away all of a sudden and she was just a beautiful statue. Animated. Unapproachable. What's happening? Why now?

And then she took him in her arms and hugged him very tight. Automatically he tightened the embrace but didn't move. He closed his eyes and plunged his face on her hair, frowning. Filling his lungs with her scent. She was wearing a black dress and the faded charms of an old happiness. The bitterness of love and its sequels.

Their faces brushed each other's one and joined for a kiss. The last one.

Sometimes we know when it's over. When we have to go away, forever. There's no return, no possibility to change the difficult situation. And as much as we love the caresses of a heart, it always comes to an end, there's no exception.

Even the brightest joys will be forgotten. The most terrible sorrows will remain though. Is it an accusation? Or just how it works?

She slowly broke apart, her lips still on his and locked her eyes in those brown ones she loved more than anything. Her hands touched his cheeks and came to rest on his hair. They didn't speak and swallowed back their tears.

I loved you, Will.

She smiled, weakly, and closed the door behind their story. Giving up Will and the loneliness of the ring he had bought that morning. Killing her dreams, the reason of her smiles just for an old friendship.

And Grace, who had witnessed the scene, quietly.

Time: a nonspatial continuum in which events occur in apparently irreversible succession from the past through the present to the future.

Her fingers slided along his spine and she took off his shirt, slightly breaking the game of her tongue in his mouth. She wrapped her legs around his waist, caressing his ankles with her feet, a hand on his nape. She could feel him shiver against her body. They turned very slowly and he found himself on top of her. Kissing her neck, her shoulders. Her heart began to beat quicker as his lips reached her breasts, his hands on her bare stomach. He was taking possesion of her desires. She arched her back when he kissed her inner thighs and smiled, satisfied. Happy. In love.

As he was going up through her skin, she moved and offered her back to him. The whiteness of her complexion, the perfection of her figure. Her curves, her nape. She gasped when they finally became one and abandoned herself to the strength of the moment. The precious time. Holding Will tightly against her back.

She woke up, breathless, and realized the utopia of her mind. She looked at the pillow next to her, empty. She leaned her head against it and caressed the fabric as if it were Will's face. Will's arms. Will's body.

The phone rang all of a sudden and she picked it up in the darkness of the room. The sky was so dark, the stars probably mourning their souls. She didn't speak and listened how a breath was loud, heavy on the other end of the line.

Don't do that to me, Karen.

She closed her eyes and frowned. How she loved his voice, so sweet, so warm.

Don't do that to me, not now... It's midnight.

His voice broke under the confession and she let a stifled moan escape from her heart. Midnight. She had almost forgotten.

Happy anniversary, Will.

Happy anniversary, Karen.

A whole year spent in his arms. 365 days under the moonlight. The beauties of their smiles. Why had she put an end to it the exact date it had started? Life is cyclical, like the snake who bites his tail. A dangerous circle, it's always the same.

I miss you, Will.

The words were sliding along a wave of whispers and sighs. So true, so sharp. She rested her head on the pillow and listened to his breathing. She managed to fall asleep as if he were in that bed, next to her. She was just missing the heat of his body rocking her soul peacefully.

Remorse: moral anguish arising from repentance for past misdeeds; bitter regret.

I used to think that I was the only one and would always be. I felt in love with him immediately but ended up accepting that there wouldn't be anything. It's not about a friendship, a mere relation between two people. There's something more about us, a unique thing.

I can't live without him, Will is bewitching. He warms up my heart and brings so much to me. I just want him to be happy. But I spoiled everything in a fit of jealousy. I'm so scared that he could leave me. For her. For them. What if finally I find myself alone?

I need him.

I understood the strength of their feelings when I gave her the message and she read it in front of me. I saw how her eyes were going blank under the flame of love burning high in her soul. And the silence of the room reached deep meanings. I'm so angry against myself for what I made them live. All those secrets, the weight of lies. The fear that I could know about their relationship. I feel guilty for their sorrow. I'm so sorry.

I witnessed her good-byes and realized my nastiness. My irresponsability. They're my friends and I've done everything in order they don't feel happy. I hate myself, really.

But the worst of all in this story is that I thought I knew him. That I was attentive to his life as he is to mine. I missed everything though. Everything. For the disgusting pleasure of selfishness, I ruined it.

I can't let them in such a situation. I can't, Jack.

He looked at his friend and hugged her tightly.

I know, Grace. So let make them smile again.


	8. Chapter 8

Part eight. 

Once he had said that he loved the softness of a skin under some body lotion. She had bought a multitud of small bottles, a thousand of scents filling her bathroom and he had spent a whole afternoon caressing and massaging her hands with the cream.

You have tiny fingers, they require attention.

And he had kissed them, one by one, with so much care.

She put down the bottle. Her skin had remained dry. Like her heart. She closed the door and laid down on her bed, she didn't feel fine. Tired and empty. She hadn't left her mansion for the last three days. He hadn't called back in the middle of the night. Jack was the only one allowed to come in and take her in his arms.

She picked her organizer and started looking blankly at the pages. December, January, February... The year speeding past in front of her sleepy eyes. But all of a sudden she stopped and her heart began to beat loud. She felt how the blood was running fast in her veins, how her throat was tightening its grip and prevented the air from feeding her lungs. She frowned and turned quickly the pages, over and over. She sat down, plunged in the anxiety of her mind. Her troubled thoughts.

And then she realized and understood the weight of time.

Tear: a drop of the clear salty saline solution secreted by the lacrimal glands.

She sat down at a table and looked at the students of Colombia coming and going in the street. Morningside Heights. She hadn't gone there for so long now. She smiled. She had also carried those books in her arms, once. And went to the lectures of this professor whose name she couldn't remember. History of Arts. The Italian Renaissance. And Boticelli's masterpieces floating in front of her bewitched eyes.

Then she had dropped it out for a man. A rich one.

Within a second Grace would arrive, with Will. Of course none of the two lovers would have expected it and it's when their friend would apologize for everything. The tears would well up in her eyes as he would take her hand and she would smile at Grace, an irrepressible urge to hug her tight.

She would guess she would be dying as her lips would find back Will's ones. The heat of his skin as the reminiscence of her beloved feelings for him. Her body would shiver as her tongue would caress his mouth and she couldn't help but smile, lost in his arms. Her laughters would join her cries and they would twirl around, light. Free. Relieved.

She would look at him with intensity under the bright light of the day, in his bedroom. And like when she had leaned over and kissed him for the time, she would smile shyly before giving up her body to Will's hands, Will's lips. She would enjoy every single kiss he would let on her skin. The lines his fingers would trace, the weight of his body and the smell of his heart. She would keep everything in mind.

She would close her eyes and smile under the sweetness of his lips below her ear and she would squeeze his waist with love, not strength, when their hips would start moving in a regular pace. They still don't know why they need each other so much. Perhaps there's no explanation and the chemistry of two souls goes above the science of our thoughts. The powerful ecstasy of their bodies would join each other simultaneously in the paroxysm of a deep and sensual kiss.

And none of them would miss the moonlight or the pale glimmering of the stars. The sky would be all blue as they would rest in each other's arms. And they wouldn't lie or hide their smiles. She would look at him, caress his lips with her fingertips, very carefully and then kiss the small scar left on his soul. Why can't life be always so bright, so simple? We're not asking for a ton of belongings, just the sincerety of a love and the beauty of its charms.

Will holding Karen's heart.

Continuity: an uninterrupted succession or flow; a coherent whole.

Wherever she goes the ghost of his soul follows the beats of her heart and it's the same for him. Will. Will. Will. Will. His name sounds in her brain like the most beautiful melody. The perfect relation between letters and meanings. She breathes for him, dreams for him and lives for him.

For Will.

Every evening they used to share a bath just to enjoy the warmness of their skin and the heat of the water under the pale candlelight. Sometimes she leaned against the tub and took him in her arms, her fingers sliding in his hair. A soft kiss on his neck. Or she abandoned herself to the softness of his embrace, her face resting on his shoulder, his hands on her waist.

They needed to feel their flesh brush each other's one. The addicting shiver accompanying the innocent gesture. And the flame in their eyes, she was his, he was hers.

The nights could celebrate their love in the intimacy of the bedroom, behind the door. The exaltation of their senses spread over their souls. The sweetness of a hand sliding along a chest, a leg. And the awesome sensation to be alive. To be in love. And be loved back. Will, Karen. They had joined the list that leads to the privilege of supreme happiness. The uniqueness of a life, a lucky existence shining under a big blue sky.

After a walk through Central Park on a sunny Saturday, they would stop by a coffee and, hand in hand, chat with Jack and Grace until the night fell and rock them all. They would come back to their flat, she would have moved in a couple days before, not even a week after the comeback of their relationship, and as Will would prepare the dinner, she would start a silly conversation with the others. The simplicity of their existence. Of a strong friendship.

Lord knows why she picked up her purse at this exact moment. Her laughter disappearing all of a sudden when she saw her organizer. And all those dates in it. Those hours, those months. She put it aside and tried to concentrate on the discussion but her mind was off, plunged in the questions of her soul.

And why there was crosses under some dates of the year. And why one was missing in the symbol routine of her life. And why she felt so scared to check and find out what she already knew. Somehow.

Symbiosis: a close, prolonged association between two or more organisms of different species that may, but does not necessarily, benefit each member.

It's like a constellation of stars, a broken glass on the ground and all the pieces join, the fusion for a soul. It's one of those mysteries, sublime, fascinating. As old as the planets, as strong as our feelings. And it follows the path of the evolution, day after day, minute after minute, second after second. Quietly. Listening to the stifled noises coming from outside. This strange world that can be so cold and so warm at the same time.

It's like a fireworks, the multiplication of various elements that leads to a result. Perfect. So bright. It's the most beautiful thing that men are able to do. And curiously most of the time, they're unaware of it.

If only for a while.

She smiled at Grace and waited, alert. She could come back all of a sudden, shouting she was late and had lost some plans. But it didn't happen and she could stand up silently. She grabbed her purse and left the office. Then locked the door of the bathroom and took a deep breath.

She cleared her voice, nervously, and put down her purse on the counter. With shaking hands she took the box and tried to relax.

Then read the instructions, carefully. With so much attention, and an ounce of anxiety.


	9. Chapter 9

Part nine. 

Twenty-eight days. The legendary number, the firm base. Of course we can easily add a few days or take away a week. Every single rule has its exceptions, especially when a body is concerned. However a month and a half is a lot.

Too much.

There's not always symptoms, that's why it can pass unnoticed. No need to mention the ones who only realize it when their stomachs get tensed under the contractions. We're all different and can't adopt the same reactions, the instinctive ones, when we have to face an event.

So who could have guessed that Karen would just let some tears run on her cheeks, so quiet?

Sequel: something that follows, a continuation. A result or consequence.

As a matter of fact, they had never thought about it, never even mentionned it. Things would have been different if she hadn't known him already. She's not so naive. But there's so much strength in their feelings, he trusts her. She relies on him. And if none of them came up with it, it was because there was no reason to, obviously.

She pushed away her tears and opened a small box, counting the pills. They were all there though. The right amount. She frowned and bit her lower lip, confused. Something's missing. The phone rang in the office but she didn't go to pick it up. She let the ring got lost in the background, there, behind her troubled thoughts. Her misunderstandings.

It seemt that time had suddenly slowed down, even her heartbeats. And it was all smooth, all weird. She took her cellphone and dialed a number, she was still shaking. She heard herself ask for something and after leaving a note to Grace on her desk, she left the building.

She would have loved not being alone, she was cold. Scared. But she didn't dare to call Will so that he stayed with her. Holding her hand tightly. Reassuringly.

Whatever happens, I will always be here.

And she would smile at him, comforted.

She's not shy but doesn't want to get him disappointed if finally there's nothing. In spite of everything. The cross, missing. The days, the weeks. And this deep blue line on the stick. She learned how it was important to be careful of all these things.

It may only be a dream.

She sighed and leaned her head backwards, looking at the streets passing in front of her eyes, slowly. It was raining. And it's when she realized that their situation might have changed forever. She finds herself kissing Will and all of a sudden she's pregnant.

She needed time to get accustomed to it. It was too early, wasn't it?

And the others? Grace, Jack... And Will. What if he had never thought about a baby?

Love: a deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitud toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness. A feeling of intense desire and attraction toward a person with whom one is disposed to make a pair, the emotion of sex and romance.

Kimberley Watkins. Third grade. She had dark hair and beautiful eyes, breathtaking. But what he loved the most about her was the smile she used to give him. Every day when he sat down next to her in the shortbus. They had this awkwardness of the young lovers who don't dare to move and even less to speak. They were cute and the day he took a deep breath to tell her his name, she had moved out to another city.

We don't forget our first love, nor Kimberley Watkins'smile that warmed up Will's heart for almost a year. It's when he learned about feelings and the pain, it could hurt. He had thought he would never find her back, nor the sweetness of her face. But fate had decided something else and Karen's smile was the exact same one.

He could have spent his entire life looking at her, just that. He loved every line, every feature of her soul. Her eyelashes were fine and long, her jaw so sweet. He used to pass his fingertip on the figure of her lips, brushing her teeth as she started smiling under his gesture. She couldn't help it. And then he leaned over and kissed her slowly, his hand sliding along her cheek, caressing her neck, resting on her nape. His tongue tasted her skin before joining hers for a deep kiss.

What is it that the contact of a mouth can be so appealing?

Instinctively his leg began to brush hers and he went on top of her body, feeling the heat of her heart against him. And they got lost in the power of their feelings, burning sensations, so addicting. It was all about caresses, kisses and love. Karen was all to him.

And would always be, like Kimberley Watkins and her smile, bewitching.

Responsibility: the state, quality, or fact of being responsible. Something for which one is responsible. A duty, obligation, or burden.

She came back earlier at home. At home... She always smiled when she used this word because of its meanings and the life she was sharing with Will. She dragged herself to the bathroom and let the water run on the tub. She needed a bath and the heat of the bubbles on her heart.

She took off her clothes and enjoyed the warmness on her skin. She closed her eyes and leaned her head backwards. But all of a sudden the presence of her purse in the room caught her attention. There was so many things in it. A cellphone, makeup, handkerschiefs, pencils, nailfiles, an organizer, a scarf, an umbrella, a small box with pills, a stick with a blue line on it, chewing-gums, a small mirror, keys, a book, a prescription, a wallet, probably fifty dollars, a check book, a credit card, a passport, a driver's licence.

All these things that an adult owns, the evidence of some responsibilites. Some duties. A sage behavior limited by some rules. A pure logic.

And so much more when there's also a pic in it.

A ultra-sound pic.

A baby.


	10. Chapter 10

Part ten. 

Apparently it's not 100 effective, even though you take it every day, at regular hours. There's a tiny possibility it doesn't work and so the whole machine sets off. The miracle of the cells, their multiplication, as fast as a plane. One, two, four and within an hour, there's already millions of them joining and working together on the entity taking shape in the depths of life.

Very soon the spine will be the base around which the head, the arms, the legs are going to appear and reach perfection. It's how life begins. A fascinating mystery.

It had never worked with Stanley, as much as they had tried. She had even stopped being on the pill but nothing. No symbiosis, no cell. No baby.

But it was different with Will.

She sat down on the couch, waiting for him. A mug of green tea in her hands, just thinking about him. Will she put an end one day to those teenage daydreams?

Chair: a piece of furniture consisting of a seat, legs, back, and often arms, designed to accomodate one person.

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the heat of his lips against hers. A soft kiss, almost shy. A sweet one. She had missed him a lot, more than usually for the obvious reasons the ultra-sound pic explained. She smiled at Grace and Jack as he sat down next to her, taking her waist in his arms. She still couldn't believe they were adopting such a behavior in front of anyone. Under the bright light of the day. The lies and secrets had belonged to her life for so long that they had almost become evident. Logical. Natural.

Everything's changing.

The concentration on the ordinary discussion resulted extremely difficult as her heartbeats were sounding loud in her soul. The veins of her temples absorbing an important amount of blood, the anxiety taking possession of her mind. She had to tell them. Now.

A whole series of images suddenly passed in front of her eyes. The movie of her heart, its birth. Since that night she had shivered in Will's arms for the first time to the stifled sound of a new heart beating out loud. Their child. Is it the end or just the beginning? She stayed quiet and looked at her friends, the man she loved. A soft quietness was embracing their faces, their peaceful features as they were unaware of the life growing up next to them. They were laughing, arguing, eating, drinking. Life goes on even when it's about to stop all of a sudden and the world will change and get another shade.

A chair is missing.

They all turned and looked at her, she was smiling, shyly. Her voice had been so soft that they had barely heard it. The room lost the thousands of noises coming from the meal. The clicking of the forks, the knives against the plates. Water poured in a glass, a chair being moved. A chair.

What do you mean, Kare?

She looked at Jack before cowardice invaded her heart and then looked down, scared.

I said we need another chair.

What for? Are you expecting someone?

She giggled under Grace's remark, so innocent, so true. There was Jack in front of her, Will was on her right and Grace on her left. It's how she looked at them, slowly, carefully, one by one. Her lungs filled themselves of a new wave of fresh air as the first notes of her voice sounded loud in the flat.

Yes I am. Although we still have like seven months and a half to find the perfect chair. The right one.

Caress: a gentle touch or gesture of fondness, tenderness or love.

He didn't look at her as he used to that night. There was something more in her eyes, her smile, her whole persona. And as his lips began to brush every single inch of her body, he realized that he loved her even more now.

The paleness of her shoulders was appealing under the moonlight and his hands caressing the fine skin made her back arch. When their breathing gets loud, they reach another stage, another world. They forget where they are and what's happening around. There's nothing but his eyes and the brightness of her smile. The warmness of a desire and the sensuality of their movements. The way his tongue slides on her breasts while her fingers massage his hair.

They would turn a side, over and over, their bodies intertwined like their tongues, their fingers. She would be his and make him come closer to her heart. In her arms, her legs gently caressing his ankles. He would play with her lips, the curves of her thighs.

And never break apart.

Caresses lead to the supreme state of the exaltation of their souls and she smiled in his mouth when his body joined hers. She always felt so well when they became one. The spasm of her heart brushing his mind and she couldn't but abdict under those sensations stiring her life. That is, that is exactly how she used to be.

She felt alive thanks to Will.

Even though a ton of questions would be dancing in his head, he wouldn't ask anything about the baby. But with a careful hand, a bit awkward, he would caress her stomach and reach her lips in a sincere whisper.

Thank you so much.

She would feel his mouth against her teeth as a new smile would appear on her face.

A maternal one, somehow.

Now: at the present time.

She opened her eyes and found herself in his arms, her head on his shoulder. She loved it so much. Slightly moving she kissed his neck, his cheek. And finally reached his mouth through the sweetness of her lips on his. She looked how he opened his eyes and wanted to be the first image of his day, the very first one that would stay in his mind until late in the night. He smiled at her and passing on top of him, she rested on his chest and let the morning rock them tenderly.

She had wished that time would have stopped all of a sudden at this exact moment. The heat of his body under her, the quietness of the flat and the loud beats of their hearts. Why would she move? Why would they go out while they were so fine in each other's arms? There was no point and it's when the cold metal warmed up by his hand brushed her finger and the emerald ring started to shine under the light.

At 9.12am he gave her the jewel and even though we have no hold over time, they could have sworn that the world had ceased to move and turn around. They had taken possession of the seconds, the minutes passing by thanks to the strength of their hearts.

And it was now.


	11. Chapter 11

Part eleven. 

The warmness of his mouth hit her right away. She smiled at him, waiting. And then his tongue slowly twirled around her finger, taking with it the chocolate syrup, sliding along until the nail. His lips kissed her hand and he grabbed her waist, laying down on the couch.

On top of him she let her hands caress his palms, then intertwined her fingers with his as she closed her eyes for a sensual kiss. She pressed her lips tightly against his mouth and a mischievous game with his tongue began under the taste of chocolate, her legs brushing his inner thighs.

She broke apart and locked her eyes in his. What are you doing to me, Will? She took off her shirt and succombed to the pleasures of their bodies.

Conversation: the spoken exchange of thoughts, opinions, and feelings; talk.

As if he were controlling my breath, my heart. He's the machine that controls everything and makes that I'm alive. The strength of my feelings is simply exhausting, and addicting. I don't know what happened, what kind of element led us to this situation. Why we kissed one day and never went away while all those previous years we had spent together were as innocent as a child's smile.

Something changed that night, unexpectedly. My heart found out that it needed Will's one to be happy and warm.

I never loved our lies. The secret meetings under the stars, in the quietness of his flat. And the light of the day always ended up taking possession of our souls. And we pretended, over and over. I felt so bad, like him.But a simple gaze from Will and I forget everything. All those problems, those worries. The weight of anxiety flies away as soon as my mind pictures him. That must be how we managed to keep on living under the anonymity of the night. When all the world is made of shades and ghosts wandering through our hearts.

I was afraid but under his charms. My heart never beat so loud when his lips on mine reached something more, for the first time. Another stage, almost disturbing. Although I never wondered why he was tightening my naked body, kissing it lovingly, but why it seemt so right. The feeling that I had been wasting my time until I found myself in his arms was laughing loud, bitterly, in my confused mind.

And I couldn't but smile under the chance I had been given that night.

Is that love? Is it how this irrepressible and enviable feeling we're all looking for desperately is supposed to act on our hearts? So I never fell in love before.

And Will is the right one.

She looked down blankly, thinking about those words that had just come out her heart, instinctively. She had let them reach her mouth, her soul speaking for her as a fine line on her forehead was engraving the seriousness of her thoughts, her talk. She was just being sincere with Grace and when she came back in Will's arms a few hours later, she would never forget them.

This conversation, a simple series of words, of sentences. The one she had wanted so much to share with her friend. The complicity between both women.

We should never underestimate the strength of words or the meanings of sentences.

Rainbow: an arc of spectral colors, usually identified as red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet, that appears in the sky opposite the sun as the result of a refractive dispersion of sunlight in drops of rain, or mist. A graded display of colors.

A sage green, a pale blue with shades of purple on it. No yellow, she had never liked it. A dark red was pretty, especially the velvet one. No, not this one, the smallest piece, there, under the black one. Yes. Perfect.

She thanked Grace and smiled, a flame of exaltation in her eyes. She put down on her desk every piece of fabric she had chosen and started working on a ficticious jigsaw puzzle. She wanted something warm, and beautiful. A blanket that would remain forever, a patchwork of kisses and love for her child. She had lacked of references in the past. The baby would know what a family really was.

A big project for fifty squares of different colors. The rainbow of love, of joy. She would try to do it by herself even though her sewing knowledges were as bare as the reason why she was born once. It would be a very small blanket but its meanings would get so much strength that they wouldn't care about it. She would have worked on it, over and over. Putting all her love for this baby growing up quietly into the multitud of shapes that the fabrics would bring.

Her determination is such that she always grants her wishes.

She had lunch with Will at a small French brasserie, her fingers brushing his softly. Her legs pressed against him. They still needed this contact of the skins in spite of the time passing by, usually taking away the electricity of the first times. Her hand caressed his cheek and she kissed him tenderly, getting lost in the sweetness of his lips. The breath they were sharing.

They would head back to her office and laugh under their mischievous grins. The sounds of their voices vanishing, a wave of moans substituting them as their kisses would getting strength. She would squeeze his waist, leaned against the wall, and enjoyed the thrusts of his hips on her body. His lips on her throat, almost burning. And breathless they would shiver under a wave of wamrness, their tongues interwined like their hands.

And the rainbow of their feelings would match with the pieces of fabric she had picked up for their baby.

Mortal: liable or subject to death. Of, or relating to humankind, human.

Saturday mornings were as calm as the ocean after the storm of the night, the ballet of their feelings, their intertwined bodies. Most of the time he used to spend them with Grace, going to some market, or just for a walk. She was still her best friend, her soulmate. And Karen met Jack wrapping her soul with laughters and hugs. Childlish ones.

Why did they decide to stay at Will's flat for once? The four of them, together? Maybe the rain, maybe their fate.

And so they all witnessed the scene when Karen opened her mail, read a letter and gasped, catching the attention of every single face.

Stanley was dead.


	12. Chapter 12

Part twelve. 

It's like a weight on her throat. Some exhausting feeling that wraps her soul with melancoly. She still can look around her, the blue sky, Will's smiles. It won't change anything, she's just like that. A bit weak sometimes. A five-second loss or a whole week of confusion, her mind goes away, breaks apart as her brain does its best to reach the surface and find some air.

She can cry and smile at the same time, she's just sad. She had shivered once, and shook her head when the word 'depression' was mentionned. Her tolerance vanishes under it. She can't, no more. She just can't.

And the worst of it is that she never knows why all of a sudden she feels so sad. From time to time.

Mistake: an error or fault resulting from defecting judgement, deficient knowledge, or carelessness. A misconception or misunderstanding.

She observed how the raindrops were falling slowly from the umbrella to the ground. Coming from the mystery of the sky and feeding the roots under her feet. A soul per drop, it's how life is. And someone stops breathing, every two seconds.

One, two, three, four.

And it's already time to say good-bye to Stan under the heavy clouds of New Hampshire, on a rainy Sunday morning, a bit surreal, scaring.

Very soon the wooden box disappeared under the voices of the choir, prayers and messages from relatives, strangers. All those words mixing in her head, she still couldn't believe that he was dead. There was remorses, souvenirs. Bright days of happiness, sharp nights of tears.

And all these regrets, all what they had missed. She hadn't even had time to tell him about the baby, he would have been happy, she knew it. His soul had joined the stars, peacefully and was certainly resting in peace now. She hoped it. But couldn't help at the same time feeling guilty for all the things they should have lived.

The mistakes of their decisions, their choices, had led them to the end of a relationship. They had shared the same wishes but hadn't managed to work on them simultaneously. And so they had failed, and got separated.

And what about a second chance, Karen? She smiled ironically. She had spent all her time forgiving his acts and accepted his apologies, as disgusting as they could have been.

But still, she would never forget him.

She took Will's hand and held it tightly.

What we learn from the past is how not to repeat the worst of our lives.

Thought: the act or process of thinking; cogitation.

She came back to the mansion and laid down on the bed, closing her eyes. She wasn't fine. The old Victorian house in New Hampshire was a typical one. A lot of rooms, cold. Thousands of fireplaces, long halls. Gloomy. The ideal place for a funeral, it matched so well with the scene. She turned and huddled up herself, she was tired. Her heart belonged to Will and the sweetness of his soul. She loved him so much, too much maybe? She just wanted him, nobody else, but the fact Stanley had gone away without any sign, any message, any good-bye, had hurt her as she would have never thought it would.

She had never loved changes and all of a sudden she was finding herself missing him.

The bed moved under Will's weight when he joined her in her dark thoughts. A past life she could only remember now through an irrevocable end, it's over. Fuzzy images, stifled words, vague gestures. How come she had forgotten almost everything?

She relaxed when he passed his arms around her waist, from behind. The heat of his body on her back warmed up her heart and the sorrow finally came out. Glimmering pearls running on her cheeks. Quiet ones.

Will put away her hair and kissed her temple, then rested against her face, rocking her injured soul.

She grabbed his hand and caressed her stomach. The evidence of a life growing up slowly, perfectly. Five months and a half. Already.

She sighed and subconsciously fell asleep, reassured by the security of Will's arms. Her pain going away as time passed by.

There will always be some place for you in my heart, Stan.

Nostalgia: a bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past.

Her heart jumped and stopped, furtively. The surprise was such that she almost let go of her bags, there, in the middle of the street. The features were the same, perhaps a bit older, thick. There was like a sign of pain still engraved on her forehead but she had remained the same.

She took her in her arms and hugged her with sincerety, frowning under this sorrow they were both sharing. The snow started falling on their shivering skins, they went to a tea room and sat down quietly.

Can I...?

She nodded and let this hand touch her stomach. The tensed skin, the print of the baby. Her beloved child. She had been adopting new gestures lately. There was self-confidence in her eyes; and fear. Doubts. Everything was going fine but she couldn't help feeling apprehension in front of the future events.

I miss you, Karen. I miss him.

She would do her best not to burst into tears right in front her. Swallowing back the lake of salt welling up in her eyes. She would breath deeply, slowly, in the cab heading back to the flat and once she would have closed the door behind her, she would plunge her face in Will's chest and her heart would begin to cry. The unexpected meeting with Olivia stiring a wave of nostalgia from her past life.


	13. Chapter 13

Part thirteen. 

She giggled quietly in the half-light of the bedroom, laid on the bed. His tongue twirling around on her bare stomach, tracing invisible circles, playfully. Her hand reached his hair and she started caressing it softly. He locked his eyes in hers as his lips slowly went up along her skin. And the flame was there, shining brightly.

I love you Kare.

She smiled and kissed him deeply. Then closings her eyes she abandoned herself to the pleasure of their intertwined bodies, the murmurs of her mind, constant and rich.

I love you Will.

Beat: the rhythmic contraction and expansion of the arteries with each beat of the heart.

She sighed and cleared her voice, a bit nervous. The room was so impersonal, so cold. She looked at the pictures and diplomas hung on the walls. An old commercial for diapers, breathing exercizes and babies. Thousand of new-borns were sleeping peacefully in their pink or blue blanket at the maternity. Will their child end up there too, between Shannon '01 and Lisa '02? She made a face and finally looked down. Waiting.

The icy gel sent shivers along her spine but she didn't move and held Will's hand very tight. She had always laughed at the stupidity of the gesture but now she had the lead role, things were a bit different. And very soon the liquid passed through her skin and began to run in her veins, her arteries, reaching in a final effort the baby she wanted so much to touch, to hear, to see.

Show me you're fine, please.

The screen remained blank for a few seconds and then everything began. It wasn't the picture, still so blurry and unreadable, but the sound. Regular, firm. Full of confidence, healthy. She could have spent all her life listening to it, the divine melody of life. Unique.

She looked at Will and smiled. Nobody was talking, bewitched by the communication coming from the heart of their child. The scientist observed the screen and nodded. Everything's going on perfectly. They refused to know the sex of the baby but took the picture and went out hand in hand. As they reached the doors of the hospital, she realized how the sky could be clear and life beautiful when she was happy.

She spent so much time looking at the ultra-sound pics that one evening as she was coming back after a whole day of work, she found Will in the guest bedroom and couldn't help laughing when she saw that the pics were hung on the walls in beautiful green and purple frames. Her fingertip slowly caressed the figure of the baby, so short, so weak and she whispered, sighing.

I'm scared.

She looked at Will's reflection in the black of the pic and she leaned her head backwards against his chest when he came closer from behind and passed his arms around her waist in a sweet motion.

And they stayed quiet, still. Admiring the evolution of their child through the whole series of photographies.

Intimacy: a feeling of being intimate and belonging together, the condition of being intimate, an instance of being intimate.

Her fingers brushed his face and grabbed his nape, plunging in his dark hair. As she felt his breath on her lips she closed her eyes and kissed him. Her tongue slided in his mouth and caressed his softly, with sensuality. She passed a leg around his waist and pushed him to lay down with her on the couch as they were deepening their embrace.

A warm evening in his arms, enjoying the sweetness of his acts, the beauty of his smiles. And the fusion of their hearts. The chemistry between two souls and the passion of their minds. His skin was soft under her palms, his back perfect, she loved feeling his spine shiver as the intensity was substituting the langor of the first minutes. The slow beginning of their waltz.

And very soon their clothes would feed the floor, scattered haphazardly by burning hands and loud wishes. Powerful sensations under the contact of their skins. A step after another, one by one. A kiss, a caress, a smile. And their breathings getting hard as they would come closer to each other and finally become one through an irrepressible urge to make it last, forever.

If only in their hearts.

At one moment the brain gets blank and turns into something instinctive. Animal, somehow. It's all about feelings. There's no reflection, no thought, no wonder. We come back to the first stage of the evolution and get amazed one more time by the strength of the sensations, the pleasure they bring and spread over our heads. And there's just this love, shared. The intimacy of two bodies and the charms of their souls joining through the thrusts of the hips. The last moment, supreme.

A divine comedy.

Her forehead against his, she would look at him. Breathless, smiling.

Scone: a small, rich, biscuitlike pastry or quick bread, sometimes baked on a griddle. Small biscuit cut in diamonds or sticks and baked in an oven.

The salt hit her right away and then her tongue perceived the sweetness of the pastry, the butter and the marmelade on it. Oh god she was dying. For a cookie. A mug in her hand and a scone in the other she looked at Olivia, a bit guilty.

I'm kind of hungry lately, sorry.

The teenager smiled and shrugged, joining Karen in their British tea time.Since the day they had crossed each other in the street by accident, they had done their best to have a weekly meeting. Most of the times at this small English coffee, sat on big leather couches, so smooth, so cosy, from which Karen had more and more difficulties to stand up by herself, the baby weighing a lot in her past balance. Very soon she would need a whole team to grab her out from those delicious seats. And that's why she simply gorged herself with sweet pastries and vainilla tea. There would always be someone to help her to stand on her feet.

Stanley's death had made her realize how life could be fragile and that there was no time to waste opportunities. She hadn't paid attention to his kids when they had shared this mansion on the other side of the city. She regretted it and the green eyes shining in front of her now were asking for the love she felt like giving. The complicity came by itself, quickly.

And it's how both women started meeting every Friday afternoon at Maddie's as the baby was growing up, giving the first kicks, under a ton of scones and leather seats.


	14. Chapter 14

Part fourteen. 

It's all about a hand. A pair of eyes locked in Karen's ones on a Sunday afternoon. There's a lot of sweetness in the awkward gesture. Apprehension perhaps, she feels unsecure. The fingertips brush the skin and very slowly the whole palm makes contact with her body, her stomach. There's no noise in the flat, a respectful silence has wrapped their souls.

And all of a sudden she gasps under the unexpected move. So quick, surreal somehow.

She looks at Karen, fascinated. And both women begin to smile with complicity. She loves what's happening. To Will, to Karen. To the four of them. She takes her friend's hand and holds it tight against the place where the baby kicked. Yes, Grace is happy.

It's a five second moment, so furtive. But that's why life is so bright and pregnancy so charming.

Painting: to color, adorn or beautify with colors, to diversify with colors.

She sighed and looked at Will concentrated on the other wall of the room. His work was so clean, so perfect. A simple look at hers and her incompetence was shouting out loud that she should let go of the pincel immediately. Reluctantly she turned and faced the wall she was in charge of, pouting. This time it was sure: she hated painting.

She passed a hand on her stomach and rested there. The gesture had become instinctive for quite a while now, a peaceful sensation emanating from it. A fine line, straight, on the wall. Coming from the clouds that Grace had painted with Will a few days ago, on the ceiling. A sage blue, quiet. She had fallen asleep the night before while looking at it sat on a rocking chair. It made her dream and she had reached another world while flying. Full of children's laughters, sunny days and innocence. So smooth, so sweet.

The right one for the baby.

Good job!

She laughed and raised her eyebrows, leaning backwards against Will. She closed her eyes as he passed his arms around her waist and kissed her head, filling his lungs with her scent. There's something he loves a lot about her. The determination she uses as the signature of every one of her actions. Even when she's reluctant, she never gives up. She never dropped his heart either. His fingers brushed her stomach and made her turn to face him. Will his heart always beat so fast whenever she will look at him?

The softness of his lips was the best reward she had ever imagined. The detail that her soul needed, the difference that led her to his arms, the center of his mind. The moans passing through her heart reached finally the state of a long and satisfied sigh as the embrace deepened under the caresses of their mouths.

And she would kiss his fingers one by one, some paint on his skin, there, just below his ear. She would observe the least move of his hands on her body as they would slide down on the floor and brush the pincels scattered all around. The sensation that a tongue can bring to a heart, the sweetness of a kiss and the strength of his arms. Like a tribal painting she would leave a thousand of lines and little circles on his skin, his whole body. And just to match with him the prints of his soul on her hips would also remain as the intimate souvenir of the unique masterpiece of their love.

A glimmering embrace, a sweet feeling.

Another moment spent with Will.

Moonlight: the light that comes to Earth from the Moon; the light of the Moon.

I love the night. When it's all calm, so dark. The world seems to have ceased to breathe, all of a sudden and rest in peace. Am I a survivor in the middle of its ruins? Or just a dreamer who escaped from the fury of the time. I got the cursed chance to become immortal and I find myself alone contemplating the stars. Aren't they beautiful? They make me hope, and smile. And they remind me of Will, now. When the intricated nets of our souls could only meet under the moonlight. When you decided to be, one night.

My father taught me about every single constellation. My sister didn't like astronomy and so he turned towards me. I felt so happy that for once he paid attention to me that I listened the amazing stories he was telling me. Night after night in a hot summer somewhere in Arizona.

You won't meet him, honey. He ended up joining the sky on a Tuesday morning. There's a long time ago. I miss him but even though his body flew away, his soul remains in my heart like an indelible trace of his arms around me. And that's why I remember every single story, those legends that rock children and make adults smile. And we forget about the rest, how dark we tend to paint our lives for ridiculous reasons. We're unable to take advantage of our hearts.

Do you like them too, sweetie? Which one? Tell me. Or you're too amazed in front of their beauty. They join in a singular way and get the shape of the most beautiful jewel. Its uniqueness comes from the fact it will never belong to anyone. It will stay pure, perfect. And whenever you feel down or need some love from someone, just look at the sky, the stars glimmering in the night.

It's so bright.

I will hold you in my arms very soon and together we will fall under the moonlight charm. There's so many things I want to tell you, so many things to do. I will do my best so that you understand how precious life is. How you have to act with care and tenderness to appreciate it. And I just want to hug you very tight and welcome you in the world under a thousand of stars. Sweet kisses of love coming from my heart.

I love you.

She sighed and smiled, huddled up herself under the blanket, on the terrace of the flat. Insomnias were propice to some conversations under the moonlight.

Sincere ones.

Argument: a discussion in which disagreement is expressed, a debate. A quarrel, a dispute.

She clentched her fists and bit her lower lip to prevent from crying. She was too sensitive lately and didn't like it. Most of the time the breath gets loud, heavy. The jaw starts shaking and you lose control of everything. For a wave of anger, hot, sharp. And the words don't come from your heart but a rageful state of mind that takes you in its whirl strongly.

The reason why they would argue would be so futile that they would forget it even before the end of the scene. But the violence of the sentences would remain, mischievously, painfully. And the final words would weigh, bitterly.

I hate you, Will.

The whisper would win against the scream. Loud, frightening. Too calm, almost restrained. And as the tears would start welling up in her eyes, she would slam the door behind her and rush outside. She hated when they argued, she always ended up feeling bad. And sad.

And she only wished she would come back to his arms.

Until the next time.


	15. Chapter 15

Part fifteen. 

I love you. Neither do I.

As the music accompanied the langorous kiss between the main characters of the movie, she huddled up against Will, looking at the screen of the t.v. dreamingly. The power emanating from these old scenes. Black and white classics. It was a world of elegance and magic that all of a sudden rushed into the dark routine of the current century. Women were smart, and weak. Men were perfect gentlemen and even though sometimes there wasn't any happy ending, it was still fascinating.

Why is it so different now? Why did we ruin everything? For what? The weight of money is insanely attractive. A dangerous hobby. She frowned. Her own thoughts surprising herself. Since when she didn't appreciate money? What had happened so that she changed so much her perspectives? She didn't like it and realized, there, while sat on the couch, that she barely knew herself, now.

She looked at the trailers and sighed. At least one thing had remained through the past time. Dealing with feelings was still very hard.

Dance: to move rhythmically usually to music, using prescribed or improvised steps and gestures. The products of human creativity.

He slided the palm of his hand against hers and intertwined his fingers with her tiny ones. He loved the gesture, as simple as a step. A kiss. When their bodies made contact with each other, there was always a chemistry boiling in his heart. A sweet wave of warmness invading his soul and the smooth sensation to feel dizzy in her arms. The curves of her lower back were the spring of the speed of his beats. Loud, quick. And her breath on his neck the wonderful embrace for which he could die at the scene.

They didn't like speaking while dancing. The least word could ruin the spell of their so close bodies, the fusion of their minds and the stiring sensation of their desires. The furtive caress of a finger on the skin was enough to make them shiver and smile lost in the exhilaration of their hearts. And as the music got fast the improvised ballet of their souls flew above the room, the building. It let behind the city and reached the clouds, so light. So free. Until the silence fell and they came back to reality. Breathless. Amazed.

In love.

The last dance would always be for him. Whatever happened, whomever she met. She had offered her heart to Will once and kept safe between her lips the essence of his breathing. The uniqueness of his persona, the father of this child she was carrying. Life is just an old song, long, slow, beautiful. The sweet time to fall in love and be loved back.

The diamonds on her ears were glimmering, matching with the black velvet of her dress. The purity of her smile and the sincerety of her eyes. When she looked at him. He caressed her cheek and noticed that she was vaguely blushing. Why is love so strong? So mysterious? So appealing? He leaned over and kissed her lips, softly.

The music of their hearts is the most beautiful one and will always be.

Result: the consequence of a particular action, operation, or course; an outcome.

She let escape a vague sound of victory. The sweet murmur of satisfaction, the sigh of relief. She smiled and looked at the blanket, proudly. She had got it. She had suffered while sewing every single piece of fabric, spent an impressive amount of hours staring blankly at the pile left on the floor. All the work she still had to do. But she had finished it. On her own.

She giggled and turned to share her happiness with the others but she found herself alone in the emptiness of the flat. The last months were exhausting and she needed to rest a lot, wandering from the bed to the couch. A whole life being laid. She had laughed under the mischievous remark that Jack had said but it started weighing a bit too much now.

She stood up and entered the baby bedroom. The sun was tracing a line through the window. Passing by the little crib, the hardwood floor and reflecting itself in the frames of the ultra-sound pics. They had just added the last one the day before. Everything was going fine, ready for the labor. She bit her lower lip and frowned while observing the figure of her child hung on the pale green wall. She was feeling so anxious about it. A bit lost, lonely. She had started the lamaze classes with Will, Jack and Grace. They had come up with a turn-over, everyone wanting to take part in the pregnancy. But she was the one who would have to go through it, no matter how many people would be there to support her and hold her hand. She was the one who would become a mother and whose life would be directly related to a new entity she had to learn about. As scaring as it could be. And as long as you weren't pregnant too, you couldn't get her feeling.

She put down the blanket on the back of the rocking chair and went back to her bed. The dialing tone sounded sharp and loud in her ear as she was waiting for an answer on the other end of the line. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

You're right?

She smiled and swallowed back her tears.

Yeah... I just miss you.

In spite of the efforts her voice remained weak and unsecure. She had no hold over her feelings and even less now while reaching the last stage of her pregnancy. She hated it.

Close your eyes, Kare, and let me rock you peacefully. My hand caressing your hair as you slowly fall asleep. In my arms. And when you wake up, I will be next to you, holding you tight.

And first thing she saw as she opened her eyes a few hours later was Will's smile, warming up her heart.

Incapacity: inadequate strength or ability.

She looked at him, her features getting thick, bad. She frowned, her jaw starting shaking. Even the heat of his chest against her face didn't manage to ease the fear and erase her tears. She sobbed quietly in his arms, frightened.

As astonished as he was by her unexpected reaction, he tightened his embrace and placed his legs over her body in a protective attempt. Caressing her back peacefully. The sun was shining high in the sky, warming his neck pleasantly. But all of a sudden he felt cold, icy when she began to weep. What was happening?

After several minutes of an unbearable and incomprehensible silence, her stifled voice sounded in the depths of his shirt. Desperate.

I can't do that Will. I'm sorry, I can't. I swear that I tried but... I won't get it. What if something happens? I won't bear it. I'm so sorry honey.

She looked up and plunged her wet eyes in his.

I can't have this baby.


	16. Chapter 16

Part sixteen. 

What I learned the most about Karen is her lack of self-confidence. All those weaknesses she desperately tries to put aside and forget. Of course she doesn't get it and she hates it. There's an impressive distinction between the person she pretends to be and what her heart keeps on saying. Her real persona is hidden behind the way she behaves in public.

And as much as I appreciate the socialite walking in the streets of New York city, I'm in love with the woman whom I found back in my arms every night. The one who whispers, smiles, and cries from time to time. The mother of my child.

But what happens to her is extremely simple. She's just afraid of life. And the weight of the past.

Name: a word or phrase that constitutes the distinctive designation of a person or thing. A word or symbol used in logic to designate an entity.

Every word owns a particular sound, more or less beautiful when we pronounce it. She had never been those little girls who at the age of six already had chosen the names of their future children. She paid more attention to the sweetness it could bring than the meaning in itself. That was all about her directives.

Her fingers grabbed his and started playing with them as she was listing the thousands of names that the book suggested. The heat of his lips on her neck broke her semi-concentration and she smiled at him lovingly. The exercize was a torture. How could you give a name to someone you have never met? A slight kick sent shivers through her spine and a wave of warmness to her heart. She leaned over and kissed him softly, thinking about time and how it passes fast. The evolution of the world and the depths of her feelings. The strength of their relationship.

And the fact she was going to have a baby while a year before she could only get Will's heart when the night had fallen and the moon had blessed their souls.

The rest of the afternoon would go smoothly. She would stay in his arms, enjoying the heat of his skin against her back and she would love everything. The music in the background, the smell of coffee escaping frmo the mugs, reaching her lungs. And the laughters all around her. Grace, Jack, Will. She would take part in it and put a hand on her stomach as soon as the baby would kick.

And when she slided against him under the pale shade of the candles lighting their bath, she would trace a circle on his chest, the shape of a heart. And kiss the skin until she felt his soul on her lips and she would smile under his caresses, the sweet pace of the thrusts of their bodies. A langorous movement and the joy of being his as she would shiver and get lost in the uniqueness of her feelings.

Then breathless she would think that they still had time to find a name for the baby. After all there was no limit to the sweetness of a kiss. Nor to her love for Will.

Breath: the act or process of breathing; the air inhaled and exhaled in respiration; the capacity to breathe; spirit or vitality.

She knew the ceiling by heart now. The pale light of the lamp, gloomy. And the vague trace of something on the corner, over the door of the room. And one, two, three. Stop. She rolled her eyes under the monotony of the exercize and made a face at Grace. She had become an expert in the art of ruining a lamaze class. She had come up with an impressive amount of stratagems to eat donuts in the middle of some exercize while food was highly prohibited before the end of the session. Jack wasn't welcome anymore since the day they had had to breathe like a puppy and both friends had ended up rolling on the floor, trying desperately to stop laughing as tears were running on their cheeks.

She was sure that Sam, the instructor, hated her.

But she loved so much disturbing the serene smile of the twenty-five-year-old girl that she was now wondering whether she still could come to her classes after having given birth. Just for the fun of it and the despair in Sam's eyes as soon as Karen came in.

She finally closed her eyes and took a deep breath, counting until thirty. It was when they were supposed to imagine big white clouds in a beautiful blue sky. When everything was easy, perfect and she was so light that she would never need Grace's help to sit down after a whole hour laid on the hardwood floor of the creepy room. As a matter of fact, she loved the end of the session when they had to relax and pay attention to the life growing up inside of them. The movements of the baby. Once she had even felt in harmony with her child's breathing. And she had never been so close to maternity.

She had forgotten everything. The room, the others, the concept of being and thinking. Her soul had joined the baby's one and they had flown away, over the ocean, the waves, the mountains. It was so light, so pure. Like when you plunged your head in the water and only heard the sound of your heart beating peacefully in the quietness of life.

And very slowly she had opened her eyes and come back to reality, troubled. She hadn't said a word, just left the place and smiled at Will as they had reached the door and headed to some coffee.

Perhaps it was all about a breath.

Souvenir: something that is bought, kept or given as a reminder of a place, of some time, of someone.

Her tongue caressed his lips softly and passed between them to reach his mouth for a sensual kiss. She pressed her hand on his cheek and enjoyed the feeling of his tongue brushing hers playfully. She would keep it in her heart as an intimate souvenir. Like their intertwined bodies and the fusion of their feelings.

She smiled in Grace's arms and rested on her shoulder, her friend's hand on her stomach as the baby was moving all around. It was raining outside and they were drinking tea. It smelled of vainilla and wrapped her heart warmly. She had felt so fine, so happy. She would keep it in her soul as a complice souvenir.

Her arms slided along his waist and she hugged him tightly. His scent filling her lungs, bewitching. She closed her eyes and let the quietness invade her body. Rock her mind and bury her fears. He had beautiful eyes, big blue ones. And he was so sweet. She looked at him as he whispered softly.

I will always be there Karebear.

She would keep it in mind as a moving souvenir coming from Jack.

The water reached her lips and brushed her tongue but she suddenly gasped and felt how an icy torrent was passing by her throat. She shivered and dropped the glass. A multitud of diamonds shining on the floor of the kitchen. She grabbed the edge of the counter and frowned under the pain on her lower back. And the silent faces of Will, Grace and Jack looking at her worringly as she leaned over and stifled a cry. She would keep it in mind as maternal souvenir.

A unique one.


	17. Chapter 17

Part seventeen. 

And at the exact moment her lips brushed his, she forgot about everything. Everyone. Of course she gasped under his breath, caught up by surprise, by his unexpected move towards her soul. She didn't break apart and offered her mouth to him, her whole body. Shaking under the meanings of the night, the strength of her feelings and how she felt alive in his arms. The silence was loud in the room, the flames of the fireplace dancing in their eyes like a burning desire escaping from their hearts.

Is it when everything has to change?

She didn't try to think, just enjoy his hands on her skin. The sweetness of his kisses and the renaissance of her dreams. And as they became one and a wave of warmness passed through her soul, making her shiver and breath loud, the evidence of her love for Will started shining high in the softness of her smiles. A bit surprised.

Even though she had always known about it, somehow.

Wait: time during which some action is awaited. A time interval during which there is a temporary cessation of something.

Sometimes we can't finish what we started. A letter, a book, a walk. Unexpected events come up and we have to stop, to change our priorities. There's an emergency. The plates were still waiting for them, put down on the table of the living. A glass of wine, a towel abandoned on a chair. Life seemt to have ceased all of a sudden and their souls had deserted the place taken away by a whirl of rush. Unexpected.

She wasn't due before two weeks.

The lights of the streets were glimmering through the rain of New York's late spring. And the sweet murmur of the tyres on the road were rocking her tensed body. She closed her eyes and let a tear run on her cheek. For the good times... Under the rhythm of her breathing she said good-bye to the most beautiful years she had ever lived. Precious memories she would keep in her heart, a unique gift coming from the clouds.

And it was over, now.

Is it her story or just a vague dream? An idea lost amoung the crowd, a simple act of love towards a man. Towards life. She still had the scar on her hand from the day they had met in Central Park and they had slided on the ice. Laughing loud, so far from the seriousness of the path they could find themselves on now. And those regular bips, the symbol of change, of evolution. Just a step more in the wait of their hearts and they would turn a page.

A bright one.

She would remember the hours passing by. The silence taking possession of the hospital as the night was falling slowly. The murmurs, the stifled cries, vague words coming from the other side of the door. A soft universe, so calm. He would stay with her, sat on a chair, holding her hand. And they would speak, over and over. Nostalgia brings confession, complicity. Intimate moments we love sharing. The contact of his forehead against hers would warm up her heart. Like his beloved eyes, his sweet caresses. She loves when his hands brush her face and come to rest on her nape. She feels fine by then. And can bear the pain.

It has always been you, Will. And will always be.

The salt of his lips would shine on her soul as they would kiss under the hearbeats of the baby coming from the machines, behind.

Birth: the emergence and separation of offspring from the body of the mother. A beginning or commencement.

I was born on the 24th of May at 5.45am, New York City, USA. According to town hall, 78 other babies decided to join me in this world at the exact same date. At the exact same place. 46 girls and 32 boys. Latinos, Irish, German, Italian. A melting-pot of cultures as the symbol of love. The symbol of a nation, of its evolution. A new generation.

Does that mean that there's a connection? A relation between the whole of us, led by destiny or some fuzzy mystery that pushed our novice souls into our parents'arms? The adepts of spiritualism won't hesitate while the others, a bit sceptical, will ask for proves, for some evidence that science is still unable to bring in spite of the impressive progress. A day-to-day labor to make the world better. A beautiful utopia we're all wishing for, if only in our dreams.

But some things remain though. And if you ask my parents, they will tell you that I was the cutest baby ever. Uncle Jack will say that I was a doll and aunt Grace will nod, telling you that I deserve the second position without any doubts. Her own daughter stealing me the unanimity of the votes, logically.

My mother is used to saying that the pain is nothing thanks to the strength of the feelings. What happens to our hearts when we hear the first cries of our child? Where does this wave of emotion that fills our souls come from? The tenderness of a smile, a simple hand resting on our shoulder. And all of a sudden, the world turns bright. We understand our lives. Is it pure magic or a natural chemistry? So addicting when they put down the baby on your chest and you realize that it's not a dream but the beauty of life and the secrets of its charms. So sweet.

The uniqueness of birth is the spring of our feelings and love will remain as long as we don't forget to feed our breaths with it. Nor to thank the people who gave us this opportunity.

That's why today I come up with these words that we, unfortunately, tend to forget in the craziness of our existences.

Mum, dad, thank you for everything.

Take some time, readers, beloved friends, to tell your parents how you love them. Please.

Mabel Truman, The Daily Spring of Love, Herald Tribune.

Whisper: soft speech produced without full voice, something uttered very softly.

Her fingertips brushed the softness of the cheek and she smiled when the fine lips moved under the reaction of her caress. She loved the heat of the body in her arms, the features of the face, perfect. The smell of the hair and the uniqueness of the palms. She was so small and seemt so weak that she would never let her go, never break the contact of their skins.

How come they had managed to reach such perfection? The fusion of their cells had embraced the mystery of life and the strength of their hearts. And Mabel was resting in her arms, now.

She kissed her temple and closed her eyes under the warmness of her love, the joy of her soul. And as she intertwined her fingers with her daughter's ones, her fears vanished immediately and she knew it would be right. Because it was how it had to be. Just that.

Very soon Grace and Jack would come in and see the baby for the first time. The wonderful sequel to an improbable love between their friends. None of them would forget that day, when their life changed and started shining under a warm shade. When the sweetness of motherhood would impose a veil of peace, of quietness. And the whispers of their voices would rock Mabel's soul.

And later in the night, when everyone had left the place, Karen would fall asleep with a little hand cltuched to her finger. And the weight of love engraved on her heart.

The soft whisper of her smiles.


	18. Chapter 18

Part eighteen. 

What if I don't move? What if I stay here, like that, and just look at you? What if my lips brush yours and I succomb to your charms? What if I say I love you and let my heart reach yours? What if I never let you down? What if I take your hand?

And our intertwined souls will remain together until the last sun falls down and the dark takes possession of earth. When it's all over, there will still be hope, some dreams left in the corner of your mind. The story of two people who one day realized that life had no sense unless hand in hand, they ran through the world rocked by a wave of happiness. Like now.

You can trust me, Karen. I will never disappoint you. I can't. Since the day I kissed you I wanted to be yours. And even though time passes by, taking with it the unexpectations of life, my love for you is such that my veins are claiming for your breath, your heart. And later, a long while after the end, it will keep on shining. There, among the stars. Near by the moonlight that looked after us once.

What if I already abdicted as soon as I saw you holding our child?

He smiled, laid down next to her on the bed. Then leaned over and captured her lips through a beloved wave of sincerety.

This is just love, Karen. Its strength.

Scent: a distinctive odor that is pleasant.

The mix of heat and scent. The point where warmness meets with her unique smell. A sweet perfume that only belongs to her hair, her skin. With an ounce of love, the bewitching potion. Unique. She could spend hours and hours filling her lungs with her daughter's aroma. Whenever she held her in her arms she loved caressing her head and kissing her neck. And she always smiled under the sweet perfume of the baby's flesh. Always.

It was all about senses. The quietness of complicity was growing little by little. The way her hands were sliding on the small feet, their fingers playing hide-and-seek. Soft whispers and loud smiles and then her heart would fly above the sky, taken away by the uniqueness of life. It's when there's just you and I, Mabel. Just you and I.

And the first weeks passed by. Sleepless nights would wrap their hearts with the baby's cries. The weight of the light so heavy on their eyes when the sun was shining high in the sky. She would fall asleep on the couch one morning, exhausted. So they would reach the door, very quietly, and let her alone, enjoying her dreams. Taking Mabel with them for a couple hours. She just needed to rest.

She would feel lost, and confused, at the beginning. Something missing. But her mind would already be wandering through the path of her fantasies, half-way between reality and the fuzzy world of our dreams. She would turn on a side and finally relax as her lungs would find back the sweetness of the scent left on one of Mabel's items.

She was only born a few weeks ago but it had been enough though to impose a veil of necessity. Her vital presence for their enamoured breaths.

Smile: a facial expression characterized by an upward curving of the corners of the mouth and indicating pleasure, amusement, or derision.

Whenever she looked at them, his eyes had this special shade that made her heartbeats get loud. And fast. She felt like caressing them, slowly, lovingly. And planting a kiss then on the brown color of the pupil in an attempt to catch his soul and feed her veins with it. Then reach the supreme fusion when they become a single entity.

Her fingertips brushed his cheek and she closed her eyes as the heat of his breath kissed her lips. The feelings were still there, so strong, so pure. Her knee slowly made contact with his leg and she let him go on top of her body as her tongue was sliding along his. The duplication of their senses, the birth of their caresses. She squeezed his waist, her hand tracing a line on his back. Playing with his skin softly she deepened the kiss and couldn't help but smile under the heat of his body.

It's not a love affair, if only it had been once. This is just a story where two people find the secret of happiness. The treasure of a soul and the sensations of love passing by a heart. She bit her lips when his mouth caressed her inner thighs under a thousand of kisses. Of small circles drawn by his tongue and a succesion of paths headed by his hands. On her bare stomach, her legs, her breasts. She swallowed hard and grabbed his hair. Dying for a kiss and the wieght of his whole body against her flesh. She wanted to feel him.

They turned on a side and she pressed herself against his heart. Succombing to the desires of her mind. She knew his body by heart, the least inch of his skin. The way he reacted under a kiss, the warm wave of her breath when she reached his bare stomach and she felt his tensed body under her palms. She loved the presence of his hand on her hair as he joined her and started the ballet of their thrusts. The rhythm of passion getting loud in the dark. His lips were moist against her arms, burning. Addicting.

And she speeded up the pace and guided him deeper through the path leading to her soul. Breathless, lost in the time of their love. The movements of their hips and the contact of the skin. Very soon she would hold her breath and press her fingers against his skin in the apogea of her feelings. She would stay still.

And keep on smiling.

Summer: the usually warmest season of the year, ocurring between spring and autumn and constituting June, July and August in the Northern hemisphere or, as calculated astronomically, extending from the summer solstice to the autumnal equinox.

It would be about love and new experiences. The pleasure of a smile, the joy of a hug. An unforgettable song playing in the background. There would be stars in the sky and loud voices lost in the dark. The pale shade of a lamp lighting their naked arms. The flame in their eyes.

It would taste of watermelon and ham. The juice of a peach sliding on a chin, the coolness of water refreshing a heart. There would be candles and walks through Central Park. A sweet afternoon spent in the shadow of a tree, laid down on the grass. A dry season, hot. The heat of the sun on their cheeks and the peaceful nights making love to Will. Caressing his skin, kissing his lips, reaching his soul. And a soft breeze wrapping their hearts.

It would be about murmurs and smiles. The expectation, a baby in some arms. And the sky would get a multitud of colors. Red, blue, yellow, green. The stars would dress up for the occasion on a rainbow of drawings vanishing in the smoke of the night a couple seconds later. The sound of thunder and fascinated eyes.

And she would look at the fireworks holding Mabel tight. Leaned against Will's heart.

And their daughter's giggles for the fourth of July.


	19. Chapter 19

Part nineteen. 

Stanley had just left for China and the taste of their last argument was still bitter in her mouth. She had decided to stay in bed the whole day, avoiding life and its warmness. She just wanted to see all dark. More and more as a matter of fact. Is it a deppression or the tiredness of a heart? She wasn't fine and needed help but of course her pride was too high so that she asked for someone.

After a few minutes spent looking at the ceiling blankly, a strong determination had pushed her out of the mansion and she had landed at the office without even noticing the rain, the permanent swarming of New York City. She wouldn't do a lot but Grace's presence was reassuring and comforting and it would be enough to make her smile and forget about Stan.

She was sipping her drink when everything got bright. When the clouds weighing over her head suddenly vanished and then she fell for him, immediately. When Grace introduced her to Will and her heart started beating quicker. Her life had just tipped over.

And when she had come back to her lonely house that night, she knew he was the right guy. If only in her mind.

Joy: intense and especially ecstatic or exultant happiness. The expression or manifestation of such a feeling.

She could find an evidence in every single motion, every single gesture. Any kind of situation. A relief used to accompany the warm sensation and she couldn't help smiling proudly, Mabel's smile as the symbol of her victory. She wasn't failing and her daughter was growing up, little by little. She was a good mother, very attentive. So far from what she had had to live once through the immensity of America and the craziness of a regretful roadtrip.

Everybody used to say that the baby had her features but she would have prefered that she looked like Will. Whenever she plunged her eyes in her daughter's ones, holding the little hands tightly, a wave of fear wrapped her mind with a veil of old memories and she felt like crying. For all the things she had missed.

Central Park. There was children everywhere, she had never noticed it before. They were running, playing hide-and-seek behind the trees. Laughing. She loved the innocence and joy escaping from their throats. So pure, so rare. Why do we drop it out when time passes by and we get older? She remembers the sound of their feet going on the ground peacefully. Mabel's giggles in Grace's arms and the way she turned and faced her friend. And thanked her for everything.

She had smiled as they had stopped by the exact same coffee place where she used to meet Will in the past. And very slowly the doors of her heart had opened and let Grace reach her thoughts, her hopes, her dreams. And they had been speaking until the clock stuck six, unaware of the scene playing in the background, the soft music rocking Mabel quietly. The sincerety of their words and the sweetness of their gazes were giving a unique strength to their friendship. Leading Karen to this last thought, what if I had never met her? Where would I be? What would I have missed...

Later that night as she would huddle up against Will under the warmness of the sheets, she would whisper to him how she loved Grace and all what that afternoon had meant. He would caress her cheek and brush the smile on her lips. The joy of being.

Ghost: a returning or haunting memory, image or person. The center of spiritual life, the soul.

There was some dates that she would always keep in mind. Determined moments of her life. Obscure, bright. The meaning of a kiss shared under the moonlight, the whisper of a love at the end of the day lost in the warmness of an embrace, the cries of a baby coming into this world and the icy nightmare coming from the past. Troubling her peaceful heart.

A gaze was enough to let him understand she was wishing for more. Then she used to grab his neck as his lips slowly made contact with her nape. A soft moan of pleasure caressing her lips as she leaned her head backwards, giving him more access, pressed against the counter of the kitchen on a sunny afternoon. The sun passing through the window, lighting their burning flesh.

The gestures were simple, sweet, perfect. As he slided his hand under her blouse and brushed her bare stomach, unzipping her pants. She closed her eyes and started breathing loud when his kisses reached her chin and all of a sudden got lost against her lips. And they forgot all the rest. Just plunged into the delightful idea of their caresses and the contact of their bodies, the strength of their wishes. His mouth on her breasts, his hands on her back, her legs around his waist, squeezing him tight as she sat down on the counter and pushed him towards her. The unique sensation of being his under the pace of his hips until she arched her back and shivered, breathless, in his arms. His mouth against her heart.

She loved him and all the things they had been building together since the day she had smiled against his lips and hugged his chest tightly. Lovingly. She had no doubt about her life with Will, how right it sounded. So there was no reason. No reason why she froze when, after a walk on a Sunday morning, Jack had pressed the button of the answering machine and John's voice had suddenly filled the place of this life she had hoped less weak. A ghost from the past.

And then her heart had broken into a thousand of pieces.

Confusion: an act causing a disorderly combination of elements with identities lost distinctions blended. A disorder resulting from a failure to behave predictably.

Hi Kare, it's John... I just... Well... I'm back... I'm back.

The room would start spinning around and her vision would get blurry. The weight of tears would prevent her from swallowing them back and she would give Mabel to Grace, standing on her right, then rush to the bathroom, lock the door behind and let herself fall on the floor. Her face in her hands, stifling the cries escaping from her confused mind.

Not that she was surprised by his comeback but more by the effect he still had on her heart.

The soft knock on the door would be sharp on her soul and she would answer that she needed some time. The confusion of her senses joining her friends'one under her unexpected reaction in front of a message a bit too incomprehensible so that they understood and let her alone.

The meanings of the words and the pain they would bring back.


	20. Chapter 20

Part twenty. 

Once upon a time a girl a little lost had landed one night in the streets of New York City. She was young and sad, looking for a new life. So far from what she had decided to leave behind. She thought that she already knew everything by heart but as a matter of fact the pulsions of her mind were too loud, too heavy. And so she crashed.

She had stopped immediately when she had heard his voice. Sweet, bewitching. A bit hoarse, sexy. She had turned herself and, the platter in her hands, had looked at the stage through the smoke of the cigarettes, the pale lamps of the bar and the permanent comings and goings of the customers. Her heart had begun to beat quicker and a smile on her face she had fallen in love with the singer of the band.

A rock n' roll romance never rhythmes with happiness. She knew it but didn't care and just got lost in his arms, becoming his slave. She could have dropped anything for him: her job, college. And even the day he put an end to their relationship, as he was leaving with this girl she had known for ages, she was still hoping for a love story.

He never came back and she found herself alone. Dealing with her tears. She would never forget him. In spite of everything.

Explanation: the act or process of explaining. A mutual clarification of misunderstandings; a reconciliation.

There was so many things they didn't know about her past. A lot of injuries. Dark dreams. It wasn't about pride, she just couldn't confess it. She didn't get it, even with Will. And the weight of those dark souvenirs was heavier and heavier, painful and harsh. She had finally understood that they would never go away but still, the words kept trapped in the fear of her heart.

The door burnt her hand when she slowly opened it and dropped it immediately, still sobbing on the floor as Will was coming in. She just plunged in the embrace he was offering and without a word they both stayed still, his breath on her neck rocking her peacefully.

That was what she loved the most about him. The way he let her take her time when she needed it. As much as he was dying for an explanation, he would always wait until she was ready. And no matter how long before her confessing. A simple gesture and she knew that he would be here when she felt like saying it.

He had never asked about the meaning of the tattoo on her inner thigh, nor the scar on her stomach. She had always seemt embarrassed for those marks from the past and perhaps one day she would find the courage to tell him about her bitter regrets.

She opened her mouth and filled her lungs with air, burning her flesh. She could feel the words hit against her lips but they remained in the darkness of her feelings. Some secrets she wanted to tell him. The reason why she would probably never forget John nor their relationship. She clentched her fists and bit her lower lip angrily. It was frustrating.

She just kept on sobbing against the warmness of his body, letting the sharp explanation go and rest in her soul and then closed her eyes, apologized softly.

But still hoping that one day, she would get it.

Box: a container typically constructed with four sides perpendicular to the base and often having a lid or a cover.

She opened her eyes and looked at him in the dark. She left the bed before a wave of bitterness invaded her soul and headed slowly to the other room of the flat where the love of her life was peacefully sleeping in her crib. She leaned over and caressed her daughter's cheek. She was so sweet, so beautiful.

Mabel.

She smiled while murmuring her name and swore to herself that it would never be the end. As the tears were running quietly on her cheeks, so cold, almost icy, she opened a closet and took her suitcase. She could feel her throat tighten, more and more, as she was folding her clothes and putting them in it. The dreadful moment arrived and shaking, she dragged herself until the door. Then looked around her and disappeared in the darkness of New York City.

Leaving behind her family and a small velvet box on the coffee table of the living. Her handwriting had always been pure, unique curves around the letters like the multitud of paths she hadn't stopped taking through her whole life. The message was clear, and sincere.

I'm sorry, Will.

She had put it on the small square keeping safe the reasons of her injuries. This blue velvet she had brushed over and over with her fingertips. A beautiful box for the shame of her experiences and the pain, the insecurities. The nightmares of a past she wanted to see buried.

She sat down and leaned her face against the window seat, looking how the building where she had abandoned them was vanishing at the corner of the street when the bus turned suddenly. At the corner of her mind and she started forgetting.

A warm drop slided along her stomach and it's when she realized the atrocity of her acts. The pain of her body. She bent over and gasped under the hurtful sensation passing all along her skin. And the heat of a liquid running now until her feet. She pressed her hand against herself and let a moan escape. The paleness of her fingers was shining under the redness of the blood. She looked at the injury and how she was dying. She was afraid but relieved.

She stood up and asked for some help but the driver didn't stop and her tears joined her blood as, laid on the floor, she waited for the end. Her soul leaving her body through the little hole in her flesh.

The bleeding scar she just wanted to forget.

She gasped and stifled a scream when she woke up. Breathless, sweating. She swallowed hard while staring blankly at the ceiling, shaking. She frowned and bit her lip, preventing from crying. Then turned her head and looked at Will. He was sleeping. Peacefully. The hardwood floor was warm against her feet, the moonlight passing through the window. She opened a closet and took the velvet box.

Then brushed it, sighing.

Embrace: an act of holding close with the arms, usually as an expression of affection; a hug.

Her knee slided along his leg and came to rest on his thigh as she passed a hand around his waist and held him tight. She leaned over and brushed his neck before kissing his skin softly under the paleness of the night. She smiled when he turned and finally took her in his arms. Then looked at her, half-asleep.

I love you, Will.

His fingertips caressed her cheek under the soft confession, the bless of the moonlight and the loneliness of her heart. He didn't say a word, just tightened his embrace as his lips warmed up her soul joining hers for a kiss.

She would let him make love to her silently. Feeding her mind with his kisses and the joy of being his. She would feel the least inch of his skin make contact with her soul and reassured by the sweetness of his gestures, she would smile and enjoy the rhythm of their hips. Then shivered against him and never break apart. Just fall asleep in his arms.

Lost in the warmness of his heart, the softness of his embrace and then she would forget the rest. The nightmare and the blue velvet. Until the vision of her scar stired the pain of her soul.


	21. Chapter 21

Part twenty-one. 

She had told him once that the taste of his soul was a sweet murmur of peace. And the fine features of his face reminded her of a painting resting in some Italian church she had visited. A furtive moment trapped in the pincel of an artist. A young boy sat on a rock, near by the sea. And her heart had plunged in the purity of the lines, the pale colors of his cheeks. The beauty of his hands and the depth of his eyes lit up by a candle light.

She had learned then that the masterpiece had disappeared. Probably stolen and sold out within an hour to a Machiavellian art dealer. A veil of sorrow had spread its nets over her heart while hearing the news but the exact day she met Will for the first time, the ressemblance with her dearest young man had warmed up her soul. An ounce of brightness on her smiles.

She didn't need to pretend when his arms were tightening the embrace on her waist. Her eyes just met his and she started smiling under a kiss. The sweetness of a relief she could only find with him. So perhaps it was time, finally. She had to be sincere.

The scene would take place on a Sunday morning. When the city would still be sleeping but the sun would warm their bodies and they would wake up slowly. The perfect moment for some intimacy. Take a deep breath, Karen. And go for it.

She opened the velvet box on the bed, quietly, anxiously. Then waited and let Will find out the secret of her souvenirs.

Presence: immediate proximity in time or space; the state or fact of being present; current existence or occurrence.

She smiled at Mabel as putting her daughter some clothes on. Her fingers gently tickled the baby's stomach, causing some warming giggles and slowly went up to her chin before she leaned over for a soft kiss on the nose. A quick step towards her thoughts and she frowned, worried.

She could have left Mabel to Jack and met him alone but the presence of the small body against her chest would be reassuring. And she really needed it. Holding tight her daughter she headed out the building and hailed for a cab in the coolness of the afternoon.

Guilt had invaded her mind after she had called him and was weighing now on her heart as soon as she thought about Will. He knew about the velvet box, now, and so more or less about the failure of her soul when John had left her, helpless. And even though she had found the courage to tell him about it, there was still something she hadn't managed to confess. Her sharpest regret.

That was why she hadn't said to him that she would meet John and try to deal with her painful feelings.

She sat down and ordered a tea. She wouldn't touch it though, just put her hands on the mug and let the heat pass through her skin. Mabel would be sleeping against her chest and she would tighten her grip on the baby when he appeared.

The awkwardness would get self-confidence and they would start speaking. She doesn't remember the scene, nor what they said, the words they used. The unique image she keeps in mind is the one of an old boy friend whose beauty faded under the pills and white powder he hadn't stopped taking. He had ruined everything, even his own body. And the rebel behavior that had been appealing once could only inspire sadness and pity. It's how she managed to turn the page and make the peace with herself.

Even though, in spite of her daughter and the heat of her beverage, she wouldn't help feeling lonely and sad in front of John's distress.

Monologue: talk or discourse in company, in the strain of a soliloquy; as, an account in a monologue.

It could have come up at any moment, at any place. In the middle of a meal like in a soft embrace. She couldn't tell if she really chose it. The words just found the way to get free from her lips and she began to speak, softly, in the darkness of the night as they were both about to fall asleep.

I lost a baby, Will.

She gasped under her own unexpected confession. The way it had sounded, so loud, so real. She didn't look at him and stared blankly in front of her. Her lips were dry but she felt like speaking. And so she did.

How John never got to know about it because he had left her before she realized what was happening. How it could have been a sign that she was made for him and so he would come back and they would be happy. With this family she had always wanted. How she was too young to face reality and accept the defeat of the relationship.

The words, so harsh and icy until now, were bumping into each other, pleading for coming out and releasing then her heart. She didn't forget anything and told him the whole details, the accident. How she slowly closed her eyes as the ambulance was taking her away from the car crash and a slight pain that she had thought coming from her heart. That was the reason of this scar on her stomach. The print of a soul that had had to leave a bit too early for some obscure reasons that would remain blurry.

That's life.

She had refused to see the baby and had just tried to keep on living. She had turned her anger towards the nurses'smiles and their disgusting compassion for the loss of her son. Yes, it was a boy. A bit too weak to resist. There's obviously a reason why a pregnancy lasts nine months, not six. She went to college and started her studies but finally got married. Just to forget or at least bury her tears. And she got it.

I'm fine, Will. Don't be worried.

She turned and huddled up against him as he rested his chin on her cheek and planted a kiss in her hair.

It's over now and I'm happy. I'm happy to be here.

She closed her eyes and the end of her monologue came in a soft wave of murmur to his ear.

Happy and relieved.

Gaze: a steady, fixed look.

The intensity of a heart is beating in some eyes. The brightness of a joy, the sorrow of a soul. You don't need word, just love. Will she always find the flame that warms up her mind in his brown eyes? Under the moonlight, the sun of New York City. The snow of the white season and the spring of their feelings.

She would caress his gaze with a deep and soft embrace and let his lips find their way on the sweetness of her skin. Her throat, her chest, her stomach. She would look at him as he would brush her bare skin with his fingertips and for the first time stop by the mark of the past, the scar of her life, and kiss it lovingly while plunging his eyes in hers.

And she would smile, brightly.

Rocked by the softness of Will's caresses and his gaze, unique.


	22. Chapter 22

Part twenty-two. 

She tried to enjoy everything, the least detail, and emphasize the fact that she had missed it. The smell of pencils mixed with the pieces of fabric. The permanent murmur of the machines in the background and the clicking of the heels on the hardwood floor. The softness of her desk, and Grace, concentrated on her work. She smiled and took a deep breath, looking around. The place hadn't changed and was even bringing back a lot of memories, from a previous life. The one before Mabel.

A glass of martini was resting on top of a pile of magazines. The remains of a past time, it seemt to look after the wooden table and get control of the situation. The custom officer standing up between two different worlds.

And in spite of her efforts the dreadful nostalgia would wrap her heart and the morning would go slowly, painfully. She would miss her arms, her giggles. The heat of her body in her arms and the happiness in her eyes. The single sensation that a mother can get in the intimate moments shared with her children.

She's still looking for a similarity, a feeling as strong as the one that filled her body when the nanny came in a few hours later and she held her daughter tightly, laughing under a thousand of kisses.

She had missed her so badly.

Freedom: the quality or state of being exempt or released from someone or something.

Something happened the night she told Will everything. The weight of her past and the meaning of the scar on her stomach. All of a sudden she had felt light, fine. In harmony with her own heart. She wouldn't forget the car crash nor this baby she had never had the chance to see but her confession had softened the injury and she had been released. For the very first time she could smile sincerely.

The sweetness of the daily feelings caught her up by surprise at the beginning. How bright it sounded. From a conversation with Grace to Jack and his childlish whims, when the night was falling on New York City, her eyes started shining under the delightful idea of the evening. When she found herself alone and expressed her love for her baby heartfully.

What she loved the most was certainly the bathtime. And Mabel's giggles under the warm water running on her small arms. She used to play with her and joined her daughter's laughters with an unexpected innocence. And then the flat was wrapped by the tenderness of a smile. The strength of love and the beauty of life. So relaxing, so pure. Almost too simple to sound real. But so addicting once you had been taken in its whirl.

She just felt like kissing her all the time. As soon as those brown eyes met hers and the little girl moved her hands towards her. Is there something more unique than the smile of your child? When a part of you takes part in the beating of a heart? Wrapped in a bathtowel she always rocked her peacefully and kept on whispering to Mabel's ear how she loved what she was living.

It's thanks to you, sweetie.

And a kiss on her temple she brought her daughter in the living then waited in Will's arms that the breath of the little body get a regular pace and Mabel fall asleep.

Introduction: the act or process of introducing or the state of being introduced.

I'm sorry.

Why did I choose these words among the thousands of different ways that the English vocabulary was offering to me? I may have a thing for dark thoughts and regrets. After all you know me, don't you? I'm sorry for what I did, I never tried to hurt you and I know it's how we ended though.

You're far from being perfect but I love you, I can't help it. My anger was such once that I prefered to leave and start forgetting what you made me live. I don't want to blame you for anything. I'm not here to argue, one more time. I'm so tired of it. I think it's time we turn the page and put our troubled past aside.

I may have left in the middle of the night but did you ever understand the reason of my acts? The why that pushed me to do that, the pain I was carrying on by then?

You never called me, never tried to find me back. I went through some bad patches when I would have needed your arms around me. But whenever I turned myself I only faced this lack of tenderness. I was dying for a kiss, a hug. Anything that would have proved how you cared about me. It's not all about money, you know. You can't do that to me.

As I should have never done what I did. And that's why I'm sorry.

I've not heard from you for almost a year. That's life? No. It's what you decided. But things are a little different now for me. A lot of events changed my perspectives, my feelings. And I let my anger against you vanish, I don't want to lose you definitely.

It's not fragile but awkward. We didn't begin it right, straight. And the nets of our relation are worn-out now. But not broken. Let take care of it before it's too late. Please.

And if you don't do it for me, do it for this baby I'm holding in my arms. There, on this pic. She was born four months ago, I never felt so happy. Her name is Mabel and her father is Will. It's a new beginning for me, a bright one, warm. I would like you to be a part of it. She doesn't have to pay for what we did. It wouldn't be fair, really.

The day I gave birth to her I swore it would be different. As soon as I held her in my arms I understood that you hadn't been right. And all the things I missed my daughter will know about. Because I love her. I love her more than anything. And I'm not afraid of saying it as you might be. It's too important to remain in the icy darkness of a silence. There's no understanding but I accept it and even apologize for all the rest.

I found this address on a sheet of paper. Lost in some book I had left on a table. Pehraps it's too late and you will never get this letter. You will never know about Mabel and go on without me. Let me look by the window and whisper that I'm sorry. Just in case you don't get my message.

I'm sorry mum. I miss you.

Karen.

Sweetness: the quality of giving pleasure.

She leaned over and plunged her eyes in his. What are you thinking about, Will? What do you want, honey? She grabbed his hands and intertwined her fingers with his against the sheets. Then brushed his lips and caressed them sweetly. Her tongue sliding on his mouth before they smiled in a deep kiss.

She laid down on top of him and pressed herself against his body. A soft moan of pleasure passing through her throat, joining his lips and getting lost in his veins. Her fingertips left the softness of his hands and went up slowly along his arms until she reached his hair and deepened the kiss. Feeling the rhythm of his heartbeats against her chest and the pulsions of her desires grow hungrily.

She was looking for tenderness and the sweetness of his kisses. How they turned on a side and he took possession of her body. Succombing to the warmness of the thrusts and the peaceful state of her soul she closed her eyes and squeezed his waist. Arching her back. Why does she feel so right in his arms?

She speeded up the pace of his hips on her flesh and held her breath under the pleeasure of the senses and the delicious feeling running through her body. The moon was high in the sky, the stars glimmering in the dark. A constellation of diamonds, a kiss per little light on the sweetness of Will's heart.


	23. Chapter 23

Part twenty-three. 

She had always loved opening photo albums. With the same expectation and fascination as we find an old cardboard box in an attic and the dust flies away over our heads in a cloud of souvenirs as soon as we blow on the top before looking in it. The one she was holding could have passed unnoticed lost in the middle of a pile of books and magazines. A pale green with ordinary sheets of paper. Cheap. Worn-out. Lord knows how many times she had looked at it and observed the pics, one by one. Carefully.

She huddled up herself under the blanket and settled further into the couch, shivering. She was cold and felt dizzy. Tired. She took a sip of tea and plunged into a travel through the time that black and white pics were heading. A retrospective thought about her life. Her personal memories. From the day of her own birth to the last ones they had added. A weekend in Vermont and Mabel smiling brightly.

She sneezed and closed her eyes under the pain. A headache pressing against her temples, burning her brain. She let the silence of the flat rock her little by little then succombed to her dreams taken away by the high temperature of her body. Her soring bones and loud breath. She was sick.

Wonder: the emotion aroused by something awe-inspiring, astounding or marvelous. A feeling of puzzlement or doubt.

It may had come from the past. Her early childhood. Something she had heard or witnessed and then kept in mind as an odd sensation of disgust. A blurry misunderstanding, unexpected. But the whiteness of the dress was fascinating though. Light like a cloud, pure. And they looked like angels embracing earth in a sweet smile. A soft caress, a gentle hand. But the previous events and the consecutive failures were bright signs, she shouldn't think about it one more time.

As a matter of fact the trouble of her mind had been stired by Grace's words. A naive question, a heavy answer. Full of doubts, unresolved ideas. She didn't know what to think about it nor if it was what she wanted. She didn't really care as long as she was with Will.

But they would stop by a coffee place just in front of that window store. The lines were perfect, appealing. And as Grace would be playing with Mabel, her daughter's giggles would get lost in the background of her life and she would stare at a young woman standing in front of a mirror. It wouldn't be the dress but the smile on her face. A unique one, full of hopes and dreams. Happiness. Anxiety. A whole mix of feelings that would lead to the perfection of natural features. And the stranger would start shining lost in the arms of a mysterious beauty.

She just would have to cross the street to join the woman and reach the ecstasy of the whiteness of the pieces of fabric. A few steps away from a dreadful dream, a fine glass, two doors separating her from another world. Won't it be over then? She would never overcome it.

She would look down as they would pass the door and head back to the flat, avoiding the tempting proximity of the store, the purity of that dress and the stranger's happiness. She would stay quiet, lost in a dead-end wonder. For a couple of seconds her eyes would meet Grace's ones and she would be about to ask but something would stop her. A sensation coming from her heart that it wouldn't be right.

And so she would just smile, dropping out the appealing whiteness and the vows she would have made. An once of doubt, a mere wonder, an utopic wedding she didn't really need.

Fingertip: the extreme end or tip of a finger.

His tongue would slide along her finger. From the skin to the nail. Slowly, languorously. And it would twirl around as his lips would take away the marmelade on it in a sensual kiss.Just looking at his eyes would be enough to send shivers along her spine and make her swallow hard. So she would pass a leg over his knees and straddle his lap. Her face a few inches away from the temptation of his heart.

A hand brushing a lower back, fingers caressing a neck. And two souls dying for each other one. The softness of her lips would meet the heat of his skin and deepening the kiss her body would press his chest and her legs would go all along his waist, a moan escaping from his throat as she would smile in his mouth.

It's like a sculpture. A work of touching. Fingers on a skin taking off a shirt, unhooking a bra and drawing the exciting curves of a heart. It's all about a head leaned backwards to give more access to a hungry mouth. Playfull kisses on a neck, an arched back when his lips would slide on her breasts. The strength of a hand on a head and the fingers massaging the hair, the pressure of her flesh against his inner thighs. And the desire, growing through the intensity of their breaths and the pleasant gestures on their naked bodies.

Her tongue would slide along his lips and very slowly reach the heat of his mouth in a very deep kiss as she would reduce the bare space between their respective skins and feel him inside, the last whim of her mind.

The regular pace of her hips would join the dizzy sensation of their hearts and his fingertips on her legs, going up until her neck, would be the spring of her smiles and the reasons of her breath, hard. A hand against the desk, behind her back, she would let him take possession of her soul and would shiver in his arms, squeezing his waist tight and it wouldn't be long before he joined her in the exhilaration of their hearts. And she wouldn't leave his lap until their breathings came back to a basic pace, a casual one. Enjoying the last seconds, her back against her desk, both sat on the velvet chair, lost in the tenderness of a gaze.

And as she would pass her fingertip along her neck, later in the afternoon, she would smile thinking how she really loved the office at lunchtime.

Cyclical: recurring or moving in cycles. Of, relating to, or characterized by cycles.

Can we really say that everything started that night? Will may have always found Karen attractive and perhaps she has always had a thing for him. A special connection that goes above friendship and led them to that kiss, in front of the fireplace of an Upper East Side mansion at 10pm. Had their lives tipped over before this crucial moment? Or did it all get settled in a couple of seconds when her lips captured his and their bodies slowly slided on the floor, giving up themselves to the pleasure of their souls?

In front of the fuzzy spring of their feelings the date of their first night never vanishes. They may have got separated once but the evidence is bright. So logical, so clear. They always found their way back to each other's arms and because time is cyclical they will keep on celebrating this night as the crucial moment of their lives.

When their hearts became one.


	24. Chapter 24

Part twenty-four. 

How come your eyes always start shining whenever my hand brushes your skin? When the tears escape from your heart and I feel their salt on my lips? When your whole body shivers under the mysterious sensations of my soul? When I say I love you and you frown, you always seem lost in front of those three words, confused. Don't be scared, Karen. I'm all yours.

It's not all about dreams but there's zillions of things that I would like to do. With you. Classic scenes of some old movies. The ones we love so much, captivating. And nobody feels like speaking while we plunge into the endless love story. A man. A woman. Is there any possibility, even slight, that they reach the supreme state of their feelings before the end? When the screen turns dark and we stare blankly at life.

Make me twirl around under the rain. Capture my lips on the platform of a railway station. Promise me you will come back when you leave in the night and whisper in my ear that I will always be the only one, before your plane taking off for some exotic place. And then I will be fine, Will. Don't put an end to it. Please.

He stood up and joined her on the armchair. Then wrapped his legs around her waist and she leaned her back against his chest. In silence, looking how the rain was tracing little lines on the pale window. The last leaves of the trees slowly flying away in the whirl of fall under the gray sky of New York. There's always nostalgia at the end of a path.

What are you thinking about?

She smiled and sighed, satisfied.

I'm thinking about you. And the time passing by.

Music: vocal or instrumenting songs possessing a degree of melody, harmony or rhythm.

When the first notes started playing in the background of the flat, she stopped everything. Even her cries couldn't resist the temptation of the saxophone or the sweetness of the voice. Her eyes started shining brightly and a smile on her face she tried to stand up. Unsteady movements of the novices, a bit awkward, she finally stayed on her knees and waited impatiently that someone came and took her for a dance.

She used to laugh loud when she was twirling around with Jack. Her feet flying in the air, her hands clapping. She loved his simplicity and the way he kissed her cheeks.

The most bewitching about Grace was her hair floating smoothly as they were dancing innocently. Her fingers tried to catch it as an hypnotized gaze was fixing the curls with envy. And she giggled, over and over until the music stopped and a calm atmosphere came back over the flat.

But what she loved the most was being in their arms. When Karen intertwined her hands with Will's ones and they started dancing holding Mabel tight. The heat of her body against their hearts and they got lost in the magic of the steps. The sweet melody and the languorous rhythm of a deep voice. The connection of their souls and the unique pleasure to belong to each other one. She didn't say a word, slightly laughed or giggled. Just kept on smiling rocked by her parents'rhythm in a beloved embrace. Unforgettable, perfect.

And even when the years passed by, as soon as Ella Fitzgerald would resound in the room, she would take her father's hand and guide him to the center of the flat as Karen would join them. And she would twirl around, forgetting all the rest. And it would always feel right to stay there in the strength of their hearts.

The music of a soul is the best harmony she would ever find.

Vow: an earnest promise to perform a specified act or behave in a certain manner; a declaration or assertation.

She leaned her forehead against his, breathless, and let her eyes plunge in his brown ones. The heat of his body was running in her veins, her leg pressing his waist, a hand on the lower of his back. The contact of the flesh, still shivering, and the quietness of their feelings. A satisfied state of happiness, a sweet relief. What is it about love that it's so unique? Why does she need him more than anything? He turned on his back and she followed slowly. Her lips kissed his skin where his heart was beating and she rested her cheek against it then sighed, fine. She loved the whiteness of his body in the darkness of the room. Matching with hers to perfection. A soft logic.

She smiled, half-asleep, as his fingers were passing through her hair, caressing it lovingly and then she dragged herself until his cheek against which she finally rested. Laid on top of his naked body.

Don't marry me, Will.

The unexpected sentence made him frown and look at her questioningly. But she just repeated it and closed her eyes, relieved.

What do you mean, Kare?

I don't want to get married, I know you're thinking about it. But please, drop out the idea. It doesn't fit me very well and I'm so tired of it. I don't need another ring to know about your feelings. I love you too much for that. I hate those signatures at the bottom of a page. A dreadful deal that most of the times we end up breaking. I'm almost too good at it. The deceptions of my heart seem to have faded away since the day I found myself in your arms. I owe you everything, Will. Don't spoil it with a ridiculous ceremony. I don't need a date to remember all that you mean to me. I think about you constantly. Even in my dreams. You're always there, next to me. You're the meaning of my life, honey. And it's all what I can say. I'm just being sincere. I don't want to get married.

The tension on her features disappeared as soon as she stopped speaking. She had kept her eyes closed during the whole confession but her face had lit up so much more under the strength of her soul. The power of her feelings and the conviction of her words. They had never talked about it, never planned any kind of ceremony.

But he just had to know that she didn't want it.

He lifted her up and wrapped his leg around her waist, tightening the embrace on her naked flesh. Then kissed her head and joined her in her dreams.

I just need you, Kare.

She smiled and plunged her face in his neck.

Same here.

Velvet: a silk fabric, having a short, close nap of erect threads.

A dark green, as deep as the one of a bottle of wine. Matching to perfection with the paleness of her skin. The curves of her body seemt to absorb the fabric of the dress in a sensual motion of velvet. Emeralds were glimmering on her neck, the fragile shape of her bones. She was breathtaking. He took her hand and she smiled when his lips brushed her cheek. His lungs being filled with her favorite scent. A sweet mix of fragrances. Bewitching.

He looked at a curl hanging loosely around her face. How the spiral was perfect. A charming river leading to her ear, the secret place of soft kisses and long whispers of love. Promises. And as they would enter the dining room, the grace of her features would warm up his heart and the hours would fly away, lost in the contemplation of her smile. The light catching up the least motion from her. Sliding like a wave on her legs over the velvet fabric of the dress. The curves of her body and the shades of the green. He would caress her waist as they would attend the evening, then slide his hand underneath as soon as they would head back to the suite. The softness of her skin joining the sensuality of his lips and the emeralds glimmering under the moonlight over New York City.

A velvet green dress, a thousand of kisses. And Karen shivering in Will's arms for their anniversary.


	25. Chapter 25

Part twenty-five. 

You came to me as I was losing my mind in an endless story. An utopic idea of love, a ton of lies. A single regret. And even though I did my best to convince myself that it was right, I cried in your arms that night. When the warmness of your soul took away the falsification of my smiles. It's not a compromise but the abdiction of my lips under the way you look at me.

Let me grant your dreams until the end of the day and when the sky turns dark I will take your hand and hold it tight.

She kissed Mabel and turned herself towards him. Then leaned her head on a side and smiled at him. Their daughter in her arms under the sun and the red leaves of Central Park.

Habit: fixed or established custom; ordinary course of conduct; practice, usage.

It would start through the contemplation of her face. So calm under her sleep. Her hair would hide her eyes hanging loosely like the curtain of a stage. The play of his heart. He didn't know why but whenever he woke up, she was always turned towards him, lost in some peaceful dreams. He didn't move, just observed her with attention. Keeping in mind the least feature, the least curve, the least motion, even slight, almost invisible. But the rarest things are also the most precious ones. Like the softness of her lips that, pushed by the pulsions of his soul, he would brush lovingly until she succombed to his kiss.

She didn't say a word then and simply rested against his chest, coming back to reality little by little, rocked by the sweetness of his arms. One day she would ask him where he had been to, she hadn't found him in her dreams. And when he would learn that he used to belong to every single fantasy of her mind, he would blush and tighten the love over her heart. Their breaths would go on a regular pace, quiet under the heat of the bed and the supreme wish to stay there for the next hours, the next life, if only in their smiles.

She would turn on her back and gauge by the window the color of the sky as he would get up and leave her arms. Blue, gray, dark, bright. She didn't care as long as Will belonged to it. A soft giggle would make her look up and Mabel would appear in his arms. He would lay down next to her and hand in hand they would enjoy the sweet Sunday morning taken away by the warmness of a baby's smile, standing there, joining their souls.

He loved being with the three of them. Jack, Grace and Karen. Like any family he wouldn't miss the Sunday lunch nor the whole afternoon they used to spend together. If a lot of things had changed for the past two years, the friendly weekend had remained like the strong base of a life, the roots of his identity and the springs of his feelings. And as much as he loved what he was presently living, the Sunday habit would always bring him the sweet nostalgia that he needed. The singular story of a small community in New York City.

Storm: a disturbed or agitated state; a tumultuous outburst.

They rolled on a side and she passed on top of him, her fingers laced with his, her tongue sliding hungrily along his lips before they deepened the kiss. A furtive gaze when she broke apart and, straddled on his lap, she took off her shirt and grabbed his neck as he sat down and captured her mouth back. The rain pouring outside, thunders sounding loud in the background and lightenings flashing on their skins as the pace of their hearts was increasing fastly under the desires of their burning senses. The storm of their souls, the sensuality of the act.

Just a furtive image of two intertwined bodies moving in a regular pace, sat down on a bed under the darkness of the night and the paleness of the light. Her head leaned backwards and his lips on her throat. An attempt of sweetness in the instincts of their addicted brains. And the bright sensation of a love that would remain.

She squatted down and brushed the grave with a shaking hand. Will you never let me alone, Stanley? She frowned, smiling bitterly. I miss you, honey. Her fingers followed the figure of the letters engraved on the gray stone. Faded colors for an ancient love. She sighed and closed her eyes, a wave of storm passing through her heart. A sensation of guilt, a deep regret, unfinished story. I should have told you about Will, I'm sorry. The grass was green, matching with the gray clouds over the cementery. She stood up and turned herself, looking how Olivia was holding Mabel, waiting at the gates. She bit her lower lip and shook her head. I should have told you, Stan. That's my biggest regret.

She clenched her fists and tried to control her loud breath. The way her body was shaking angrily. Her eyes locked on Will's and she lost everything. The calm temper she had so much wanted to keep, the sage behavior, the wisdom of an adult. The storm of her soul got mixed with the anger running in her veins and the thunders of the arguments started sounding loud in the desert street.

She told me then that she didn't remember the reason of their fight. It was mid-November and they were standing there, at the corner of the 45th street where an old lady is used to selling daisies. They didn't even realize that it was raining and their voices were instinctively trying to cover my tears. The fury of her heart was dreading the fact he could decide to leave and never come back in a whisper of gentle kisses. What if he did it one day? Because of her ridiculous whims? But she couldn't stop though and so kept on arguing.

And all of a sudden I made them hold their breaths. Forgetting all the rest, their angry gazes. They just turned, puzzled, and looked at me.

I had just said 'mummy'.

Word: a sound or a combination of sounds, or its representation in writing or printing, that symbolizes and communicates a meaning and may consist of a single morpheme or of a combination of morphemes.

She had broken the rules while brushing his lips. While squeezing his waist and offering him everything. Her smiles, her kisses, her heart. Her breath. The weight of her marriage hadn't resisted and after the complexity of a novice relationship, she had started dreaming about a life with Will. A gaze, a caress, the way his hands slided along her waist and the intensity of their story. The blue line on a stick and the day she gave birth to their baby. The main lines, a whole series of souvenirs embracing her mind and bewitching her heart. A succession of events led by a word. A unique one. Exact, perfect. Sharp, sweet.

And while the rain would be pouring on their angry faces at the corner of a street in New York City, they would understand everything when their daughter opened her mouth and started speaking. A single word. A bit weak but pure, clear. He would take her hand and they would laugh, happy. Moved.

Because it's all about it, Will, Karen.

And then they realized for the first time the secret of life. The concept of words, their meanings.

And all the feelings they usually bring.

The end.


End file.
